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3 1822 00601 6596
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POEMS OF PLACES.
EDITED BV
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
Little Classic" STYLE. Red Edges. Price, #1.00 A volume.
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Vols. 1-4. |
England and Wales. |
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5. |
Ireland. |
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6-8. |
Scotland, Denmark, Iceland, Nor- |
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way, and Sweden. |
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9,10. |
France and Savoy. |
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11-13. |
Italy. |
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14, 15. |
Spain, Portugal, Belgium, and |
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Holland. |
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16. |
Switzerland and Austria. |
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17, 18. |
Germany. |
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19. |
Greece and Turkey in I<:urope. |
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20. |
Kussia. |
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21, 22, 23. |
Asia. |
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Africa. |
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America, {hi Press.') |
" These little hooks are valuable mines of literary treasure, diminutive but delightful, and with their aid no idle half-hour need prove unwelcome or unprofitable." — Boston Courier,
" It is surprising to find how very rich the selections are from the best poets of all lands. Each volume is a choice repertory of the finest poems in the language." — Southern Qttarferly.
HOUGHTON, OSGOOD & CO., Boston.
-fc
Poems of Places
EDITED BY
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW
It is the Soul that sees; the outward eyes Present the object, but the Mind descries.
AFRICA
BOSTON: HOUGHTON, OSGOOD AND COMPANY.
^e llibtrstlie ^rcss, (JTambntige.
C^ _ _^
COPYEIGHT, 1878.
By henry W. LONGFELLOW.
University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co. Cambridge.
COISTTElN^TS.
AFRICA.
INTRODUCTORY. pah;:
Africa F. Freiligrath. . . 1
Under the Palm-Trees "
Africa J- Montgomery
Africa " ... 10
The Slave Ship " ... 11
The African Chief H'. C. Bryant ... 14
Africa M. Loivell .... 17
Th3 Slaves Dre.\m H. W. Longfellow . '22
In Africa J- Miller .... 24
THE BARBARY STATES.
II. Soiithcy . B. R. Farkcs It. Southcy .
P. B. Shelley
ALGIERS.
Ode on the Battle of Algiers .
Under the Olives
The Enchanted Batms ....
ATLAS, THE MOUNTAIN.
The Mountain Strea.ms ....
CARTH.\GE.
CvRTH.vGE Virgil . . .
C.vRTHAGE y. von Schilkr
Marics AMIDST THE RuiNs OF Cartii\ge. IJ'. M. Pracd
Marius L. M. Child
Cartkvge L. E. jMiidon
Hannib.vl's O.vtb
Carthvge T. K. Ifcnvy
Carth-vge N. Midicll .
IV
CONTENTS.
DERNE.
The Storming of Derne J. G. miittler . . 52
UTIOA.
Cato's Solilooty J- Addison ... 67
EGYPT, NUBIA, AND ABYSSINIA.
INTRODUCTORY.
Egypt J- Thomson .
Egypt N. Michell
Egypt T. B. Aldrich
Egypt H. JV. Longfellow
Egypt P. Freneau .
Egypt K H. Stoddard
A Vision of Old Egypt R Noel
The Egyptian Princess E. Arnold.
The Seventh Plague of Egypt . . . G. Croly .
An Egyptian Tomb W. L. Bowles.
To an Egyptian Mummy H. Smith
The Pyramids of Egypt W. M. Praed
Festal Dirge From the Egyptian .
Isis AND Osiris E. Spenser
A Meditation J. A. de Macedo .
The Destroying Angel A. Cowley . .
The Sons of Cush IF. L. Bowles.
Gebir IV. S. Landor
The Witch of Atlas P. B. Shelley .
To the Alabaster Sarcophagus . . . H. Smith . .
The Papyrus R. T. Paine .
Macarius the Monk J. B. O'Reilly
The Pyramids Lord Houghton
Pelters of Pyramids R. H. Home .
The Sphinx and the Pyramids . . . G. Wilson
The Sphinx H. H. Brownell
The Colossi F. Smith . .
The Colossi T. G. Appleton
Nubia B. Taylor . .
Snow in Abyssinia Anonymous .
ALEXANDRIA.
Alexandria Lucan ....
The Death of Cleopatra Horace ....
The Death of Antony W. SJmkespeare .
Death op Antony W. H. Lytle . .
Alexandria W. L. Bowles .
98 97 103 104 107 108
no 111
112 113 116 117 117 118
119 119 121 113 125
CONTENTS.
Alexandria . . . Philip the Freedman C^SAR IN Tears . . Pompey's Pillar . . Cleopatra's Ne2dle The Battle of Alexa
ASSOUAN (SYENE). Juvenal at Stene . Svene
.V. Michell . H. H. Browmll C. F. Bates . N. Michell .
J. Montgomery
T. G. Appleton J. Ellis. . .
ir. Thomhury
CAIRO
The Legend of St. Vitus . . .
D Aft I ETTA
Margoerite of Fr-vnce F. Hemans .
ENSEXE (ANTINOii).
ANTiNoiJs T. G. Appleton
GHEEZEH (GIZEH).
GizEH N. Michell .
HELIOPOLIS (MAT ARIA).
HSUOPOLI3 /. Ellis. . .
IPSAMBOUL (ABU-SIMBEL). NUBIA.
Ipsamboul N. Michdl
Abu SiMBEL J. B. Norton .
KARNAK
Karnak J. Ellis. . .
MEMPHIS.
M3MPHIS A'". Michell .
MEROE, NUBIA.
Merck ••
NILE, THE RIVER
HvMN TO THE NiLB Enna . . .
The Nile .E^hyhis
The Nile Lucan .
The Nile Lucretius
To THE Nile J. Keats
The Nile L. Hunt
OzvMANDiAS p. B. Shelley .
A ScNSET ON THE NiLE T. G. Appleton
MsMXON B. W. Procter
Moses on thh Nile J. Grahnme .
The Traveller at the Source op the
Nile F. Hemans .
126 127 129 129 130 131
131 135
133 140
145
147
118 149
150
151
152
153 15'i
lfi3 Ifrt l&t 1Q5 lf>? 16'> 167
1G7
VI
CONTENTS.
The Nile Lord Houghton . . 1G9
A Traveller's Impression ox the Nile " . . 172
To the Nile B. Taylor .... 173
The Awakener in the Desert . . . . F. Freiligrath . . 174
Napoleon in Bivouac " . . 176
The Battle of the Nile W. L. Bowles . 179
CASABI4NCA F. Hemans . . . 182
The Delta of the Nile N. Michell . . . 184
PHIL^, THE ISLAND.
The Island of Phil^ Lord HovgMon . . 185
Phil^ T. G. Appleton . . 18
SAIS
The Veiled Image at Sais F. von Schiller . . 187
Sais R C. Trench . . .190
TENTYRA (DENDERAH).
Tentyra N. Michell . . .191
THEBES.
Thebes Lord Hoicghton . . 192
Thebes N. Micheil . . .193
Thebes S. G. W. Benjamin. 196
The Hermit of the Thcbaid . . . . J. G. Whittier . . 198
SAHARA, THE GREAT DESERT.
SAHARA.
Cato in the Dr^sERTs OP Africa . , . Lucan . . .
The Spectre-Caravan F. Freiligrath
Mirage "
The Lion's Ride "
Song of Slaves in the Desert .... J. G. TVhittier
The Simoom M. F. T upper
DssKRT Hymn to the Sun . . . . B. Taylor . .
On the Desert W. IV. Story .
The Caravan in the Deserts . . . . F. Hemans .
203 204 207 211 214 216 217 219 221
CENTRAL AND SOUTHERN AFRICA.
BUSHMEN'S (B03JESMANS) COUNTRY.
Afar in the Desert T. Pringle. . . .
CAPE COLONY
The Lion-Hunt " . . .
Grnadendal " . . .
The Rock of Elks " . . .
228
234 235
CONTENTS. Vll
CAPE OF GOOD HOPE.
The Spirit of the Cave L. de Camoens . . 235
GUINEA.
The King of Congo and his IIunbred Wives J^. Freiligrath . . 238
KILIMANDJARO, THE MOUNTAIN.
KiLiMANDJARO B. Taylor .... 241
MADAGASCAR. THE ISLAND.
Madagascar Song J. Leyden .... 244
SOUDAN.
The Ph(enix F. Freiligrath . . 245
TiMBUCTOo A. Tennyson . . . 246
TiMBCCTOO A. Hallam . . . 250
Tlmbdctoo R. H. Home ... 252
AFRICA.
INTRODUCTORY
AFRICA.
YE zones, so strange and wondrous, Tlioii distant magic land, Where swarthy men are roving Burnt by the sun's fierce brand ; Where all things glow and sparkle, Where Piioebus' golden beam The genuine gold doth darken That flashes bright in every stream,
Tliy forests dark and deserts
Are present to my view,
Thy feathery palms are mirrored
In lakes of deepest blue ;
The wild beasts' roar is sounding
From cleft and cavern black,
With heavy bales and costly
The Arab loads his camel's back.
- ty
b
POEMS OF PLACES.
There, too, the curly negro
Gold-dust iu rivers seeks,
And there Mount Atlas gravely
Hears heaven-supportmg peaks;
The sunlight tinges brightly
Its crags with radiant blush,
While elephants gray and sombre
With ponderous step the meadows crusli.
To dip his mane in the river The lion stoopeth down, And swiftly as tlie lightning Canoes dart, light and brown ; They pass o'er depths securely, And dates and rosin bear. And from the waves dark faces All dripping and all wet appear.
0 zone ! So hot and glowing. Queen of the eartli art thou ! Sand is thy mantle flowing, The sun doth crown thy brow: Of gold, thou queenly woman. Are all the clasps and rims. That fasten with fiery splendor The garment to thy burning limbs.
The strand, with rocks and quicksands. Naked and parched wdth heat, Cut into shapes fantastic. Is a footstool for thy feet;
INTKODUCTOUY.
The ocean far bcucatli it Its edge (loth hem and braid, Washing thy sandals, foaming, As an anxious and a wilUng maid.
On dazzling mats of scarlet Thou licst thoughtful and calm, The spotted panthers are licking The fingers of thy left palm; "While skilfully thy right hand, Sparkling ^vith jewels rare. Into a tress is twisting The lion's mane of tawny hair,
And then again, nntwining it,
Into a five-toothed prong,
Dost comb the hair's dense tresses
His curved back along:
His flanks are proudly heaving ; —
Anon, with the same liand
Commandingly thou scarest
Tlie slim s:irafl"es across the sand.
O'
Upon thy shoulder sitting
In liis ])luiiiagc' briglit dis|)lay,
IVith chattering and with screaming
Perches a ])arr()t gay ;
He lays his beak so crooked
Against thy listening ear,
"With voice both loud and ringing
Relates he stories strange to hear.
POEMS OF PLACES.
A silken turban, broidered
With flowers, decks tliy hair,
A rich and costly necklace.
Such as sultanas wear,
Of thousand links close-knitted
To chain compact and sound,
With golden coil encircles
Thy neck which sun and heat have browned.
Who is there, that has seen thee
In all thy splendor quite?
Dense forests ever screen thee.
Waving with leafy night
Before thy golden crescent.
Before thy cheek's rich bloom,
Before thy lips of ruby.
Before thine eye which flashes gloom.
None, none have yet beheld thee, O Queen, from face to face. Although full many a suitor Advanced with fearless pace To lift the veil that covers Thy brow with mystic fold, — Ah, with his life atoned he The attempt he ventured all too bold!
From off thy throne thou rosest With menace dread to see, — " Arouse ye, O my lions. Tear him, and fight for me;
INTRODUCTORY.
O sun ! tliy living fire From cloudless tent on high Hurl down on the offender With scorching ardor, hot and dry!
*' Subdue his strength, ye vapors,
With sultry poisonous breath,
And let at every palm-tree
A javelin threaten death ;
Ye curly-headed negroes,
Haste, bring to me his blood,
Let fly your hissing arrows.
And take an aim full sure and good!
Then up doth bound tlie lion, Roaring with fierce delight. And strikes his paw unwieldy In the breast of tlie hapless white; Troni every bush a warrior With hideous grin doth leap, And with its breath of poison Simoom the desert plain doth sweep.
His spur the Jolof presses
Deep in his charger's side ;
How can the fainting pale-face
Such rage as this abide ?
All gashed and gory, sinking
A corpse upon the sand,
He cruelly hath perished,
O dread Sultana, through thy hand !
POEMS OF PLACES.
Thee, whom he fain desired
To disclose to every eye,
And who didst therefore bear him
Displeasure kindled high ;
Thee, in thy sanctuary,
He would have glorified,
Wherefore didst thou deter him
To publish thine own fame and pride?
The negro-kings who saw thee Thirst for the white man's blood. Now offer it unto thee In humble suppliant mood; The golden bowl doth brandish, flashing in blood-red sheen. That many a drop of crimson Is sprinkled on thy veil of green.
Thy swelling lips thou pressest Against the vessel's rim. On the yellow sand thou gazest With savage smile and grim ; The corpse before thee is lying, Fiercely the sun doth sting ; Through ages and through nations Thy murdered suitors' fame shall ring !
Terdhiand FreUigrath. Tr. K. F. Kroeher.
INTUODUCTORY.
UNDER THE PALM-TREES.
MANES arc fluttcrinc^ ilirmigli tlic bushes; deadly strife is in tlic wood : Hear'st thou not the roar and stamping from von palm- grove's neighborhood ? Climb with me npon tlic teak-tree ! Gently, lest thy
quiver's rattle Should disturb them ! Look, the tiger and the leopard meet hi battle !
For the body of the white man, whom the tiger did surprise
Sleeping mid the crimson flowers on this slope of many dyes, —
For the stranger, three moons nearly our tent's guest, us oft inviting
Willi him plants to seek and chafers, — the pied mon- sters now are fighting.
AVoe ! no arrow more can save him ! Closed already
is his eye ! Red his temples as the blossoms of the thistle waving
nigh ; As within a bloody basin, wliere the mound is slightly
dinted. Lies he ; and his cheek is deeply with the tiger's claw V imprinted.
8 POEMS OF PLACES.
Woe, white man ! on thee thy mother nevermore shall
glad her eyes ! — Foaming at the mouth, the leopard on the raging tiger
flies; But his left paw he reposes on the body to be rended, And the right one, high uplifted, threatening to the foe
is wended.
What a bound ! Look, look, the leaper grips the dead
man by the arm ! But the other holds his booty ; dragging it he flies from
harm. On their hind legs fight they; wildly eaeh upon the
other gazing, As they rear, the livid body stark upright between
them raising.
Then, — 0 look ! above them somethmg gliding from the branches hangs.
Greenly shining, jaws all open, poisonous slime upon its fangs !
Giant serpent ! thou the booty leav'st to neither forest- ranger !
Thou entwinest, thou dost crush them, — tiger, leopard, and pale stranger!
Ferdinand Freiligratk. Tr. C. Boner,
INTRODUCTORY.
AFRICA.
WHERE the stupendous Mountains of the Moon Cast their broad shadows o'er the realms of noon From rude Caffraria, where the giraffes browse With stately heads among the forest boughs, To Atlas, where Numidian hons glow With torrid fire beneath eternal snow ; From Nubian hills, that hail tlie daA\niing day. To Guinea's coast, where evening fades away; Regions immense, unsearchable, unknown, Bask in the splendor of the solar zone, — A world of wonders, where creation seems No more the works of Nature, but her dreams. Great, wild, and beautiful, beyond control. She reigns in all the freedom of her soul ; Where none can check her bounty when she showers O'er the gay wilderness her fruits and flowers ; None brave her fury wlien, Avilh whirlwind breath And earthquake step, she walks abroad with death. O'er boundless plains she holds her fieiy flight. In terrible magnificence of light; At blazing noon pursues tlie evening breeze, Through the dun gloom of realm-o'ershadowing trees: Her thirst at Nile's mysterious fountain quells. Or bathes in secrecy where Niger swells An inland ocean, on wliose jasper rocks With shells and sea-flower wreaths slie binds her locks. She sleeps on isles of velvet verdure, placed
10 POEMS OF PLACES.
Midst sandy gulfs and shoals forever waste;
Slie guides her countless flocks to cherished rills.
And feeds her cattle on a thousand hills :
Her steps the wild bees welcome through the vale,
Trom every blossom that embalms the gale ;
The slow unwieldy river-horse she leads
Through the deep waters, o'er the pasturing meads ;
And climbs the mountains that invade the sky,
To soothe the eagle's nestlings when they cry.
At sunset, when voracious monsters burst
From dreams of blood, awaked by maddening thirst;
When the lorn caves, in which they shrunk from light,
Ring with wild echoes through "the hideous night ;
When darkness seems alive, and all the air
In one tremendous uproar of despair.
Horror, and agony ; — on her they call ;
She hears their clamor, she provides for all,
Leads the light leopard on his eager way.
And goads the gaunt hyena to his prey.
James Montgomery.
AFRICA.
IS not the negro blest? His generous soil With harvest-plenty crowns his simple toil ; More than his wants his flocks and fields afford:. He loves to greet the stranger at his board : "The winds were roaring, and the white man fled. The rains of night descended on his head; The poor white man sat down beneath our tree. Weary and faint, and far from home was he :
INTRODUCTORY. 11
For him no motlier fills ^itli milk the bowl,
No wife prepares the bread to cheer his soul ; — •
Pity the poor white man who sought our tree,
No wife, no mother, and no home, has he."
Thus sang the negro's daughters; once again,
0 that the poor white man might hear that strain!
IVhether the victim of the treacherous Moor,
Or from the negro's hospitable door
Spurned as a spy from Europe's hateful clime,
And left to perish for thy country's crime ;
Or destined still, when all thy wanderings cease,
On Albion's lovely lap to rest in peace;
Pilgrim ! in heaven or earth, where'er thou be,
Angels of mercy guide and comfort thee !
James ^Luntyomcnj.
THE SLAVE SHIP.
O'ER Africa the morning broke. And many a negro-land revealed, From Europe's eye and Europe's yoke,
In nature's inmost heart concealed : Here rolled the Nile his glittering train. From Ethiopia to the main ; And Niger here uiu'oiled his length, That hides his fountain and his strength.
Among the realms of noon; Casting away their robes of night. Forth stood in nakedness of light
The Mountains of the Moon.
12 POEMS OF PLACES.
Hushed were tlie liowlings of the wild.
The leopard in his deu lay prone; Man, while creation round hiin smiled,
Was sad or savage, man alone ; — Down in the dungeons of Algiers The Christian captive woke in tears ; Caffraria's lean marauding race Prowled forth on pillage or the chase;
In Libyan solitude, The Arabian horseman scoured along ; The caravan's obstreperous throng
Their dusty march pursued.
But woe grew frantic in the west;
A wily rover of the tide Had marked the hour of Afric's rest
To snatcli her children from her side ; At early dawn, to prospering gales, The eager seamen stretch their sails; The anchor rises from its sleep Beneath the rocking of the deep;
Impatient from the shore A vessel steals ; — she steals away Mute as the lion with his prey, —
A human prey she bore.
Curst was her trade and contraband;
Therefore that keel, by guilty stealth, ried with the darkness from the strand.
Laden with living bales of wealth : Pair to the eye her streamers played
IXTllODUCTOllY. 13
With undulating light and shade; "White from her prow the gurgling foam Flew backward towards the m-gro's home,
Like his unheeded sighs ; Sooner that melting foam shall rcacli His iiJand home, than yonder beach
Again salute his eyes.
Tongue hatli not language to unfold
The secrets of the space between That vessel's flanks, — wliose dungeon-hold
Hides what the sun hath never seen ; Three hundred Mrithing j)risoner.s there Breathe one mephitic bhist of air From lip to lip ; like flame supprcst, It bursts from every tortured breast,
With dreary groans and strong ; Locked side to side, they feel by starts The beating of each other's hearts, —
Their breaking, too, erelong.
Light over the untroubled sea,
Fancy might deem tliat vessel lield
Her voyage to eternity,
By one unelianging breeze impelled ; — •
Eternity is in tlie sky,
AVliose span of distance mocks the eye ;
Eternity ujuju tlie main,
The horizon there is sought in vain ; Eternity Ix'low
Appears in heaven's inverted face;
14) POEMS OF PLACES.
And on, tlirough everlasting space. The unbounded billows flow.
Yet, while his wandering bark careered,
The master knew, with stern delight. That full for port her helm was steered.
With aim unerring, day and night. Pirate ! that port thou ne'er shalt hail ; Thine eye in search of it shall fail : But, lo ! thy slaves expire beneath ; Haste, bring the wretches forth to breathe;
Brought forth, — away they spring, And headlong in the whelming tide. Rescued from thee, their sorrows hide
Beneath the halcyon's wing.
James Montgomery.
THE AFRICAN CHIEF.
CHAINED in the market-place he stood, A man of giant frame, Amid the gathering multitude
That shrunk to hear his name, — All stern of look and strong of limb,
His dark eye on the ground ; And silently they gazed on him, As on a lion bound.
Vainly, but well, that chief had fought. He was a captive now;
INTnODLCTOUY. 15
Yet pride, tliat fortune liunibles not,
Was written on liis brow. The sears liis dark broad bosom wore
Sliowed warrior true and brave ; A prinec among Ids tribe before,
lie could not be a slave.
Then to Ids conqueror he spake:
*' ^ly brotlicr is a king; Undo this necklace from my neck,
And take this bracelet ring, And send me where my brother reigns.
And I will fdl thy hands "With store of ivory from the ])lains.
And gold-dust from the sands."
"Not for lliy ivory nor tliy gold
"Will I unbind tliy chain ; That bloody hand shall never hold
The baltle-sj)ear again. A price thy nation never gave
Siiall yet be paid for thee; For thou shalt be the Christian's slave,
In lands beyond the sea."
Tlien wept Ihe warrior rliicf, and bade
To shred his locks away; And. one by one. each heavy braid
lU'fore the victor lay. Thick were the ])lattcd h)cks, and long,
And closely hidden there
16 POEMS OF PLACES.
Shone many a wedge of gold among The dark and crisped hair.
"Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold
Long kept for sorest need; Take it, — thou askest sums untold,
And say that I am freed. Take it, — my wife, the long, long day,
Weeps by the cocoa tree, And my young children leave their play.
And ask in vain for me."
"I take thy gold, — but I have made
Thy fetters fast and strong, And ween that by the cocoa shade
Thy wife will wait thee long." Strong was the agony that shook
The captive's frame to hear. And the proud meaning of his look
Was changed to mortal fear.
His heart was broken — crazed his brain:
At once his eye grew wild ; He struggled fiercely with his chain.
Whispered, and wept, and smiled ; Yet wore not long those fatal bands.
And once, at shut of day, They drew him forth upon the sands.
The foul hyena's prey.
William Cullen Bryant.
INTRODUCTOKY. 17
AFRICA. ^
SHE sat wlicrc the level sands Sent back the sky's fierce glare; She folded her mighty hands, And waited with calm despair, While the red sun dropped down the streaming air.
Her throne was broad and low, Budded of cinnamon; Huge ivory, row on row, Varying its columns dun, Barred with the copper of the setting suu.
Up from the river came
The low and sullen roar
Of lions, with eyes of flame,
Tliat haunted its reedy sliore,
And the neigli of the luppoi^tamus,
Trampling the watery iloor.
Her great dusk face no light From the sunsel-i;low could take; Dark as the primal night Ere over the earth God spake: It seemed for her a dawn could never break.
She o])cned her massy lips,
And siglied with a dreary sound,
As when by the sand's eclipse
18 POEMS OF PLACES.
Bewildered men are bound, And like a train of mourners The columned winds sweep round.
She said: "Mj torch at fount of day I lit, now smouldering in decay : Through futures vast I grope my way.
"1 was sole queen the broad earth through:
My children round my knees upgrew,
And from my breast sucked Wisdom's dew.
"Day after day to them I hymned;
Presh knowledge still my song o'erbrimmed,
Tresh knowledge, which no time had dimmed.
*' I sang of Numbers ; soon they knew The spell they Avrought, and on the blue I'oretold the stars in order due ; —
" Of Music ; and they fain would rear Something to tell its influence clear ; Uprose my Memnon, with nice ear,
''To wait upon the morning air. Until the sun rose from his lair Swifter, at greet of lutings rare.
"I sang of Forces whose great bands
Could knit together feeble hands
To uprear Thought's supreme commands :
INTKODl'CTOUY.
"Tlirn, like broad tents, hosidc tlio r\ilc Tlioy pitcliod tlie Pyramids' jo^reat jiilr ; Wliere liglit and sliadc divided smile ;
"And on wliite walls, in stately show, Did Painting with fair movement, go, Leading the long processions slow.
"All laws that wondrous Nature taught, To serve my children's skill I brought. And still for fresh devices sought.
" TVliat need to tell ? they lapsed away, Their great light quenched in twilight gray, "VVithin their winding tombs they lay,
** And centuries went slowly l)y, And looked into my sleej)less eye, "Which only turned to sec them die.
" The winds like mighty sjiirits came, Alive and pure and strong as flame. At last to lift me from my shame ;
"For oft T heard them onward go. Felt in the air their irrrat wings row, As down they dipped in journeying slow.
"Their course they steered nbove my head. One strong voice to anotlier said. — 'Why sits she here so drear and dead?
20 POEMS OF PLACES.
" ' Her kingdom stretches far away ; Beyond the utmost verge of day, Her myriad children dance and play.'
"Then throbbed my mother's heart again.
Then knew my pulses finer pain.
Which wrought hke fire within my brain.
"I sought my young barbarians, where A mellower light broods on the air. And heavier blooms swing incense rare.
"Swart-skinned, crisp-haired, they did not shun The burning arrows of the sun; Erect as palms stood every one.
" I said, — These shall live out their day In song and dance and endless play; The children of the world are they.
" Nor need they delve with heavy spade ; Their bread, on emerald dishes laid, Sets forth a banquet in each shade.
"Only the thoughtful bees shall store
Their honey for them evermore;
They shall not learn such toilsome lore;
"Their finest skill shall be to snare The birds that flaunt along the air, And deck them in their feathers rare.
INTRODUCTORY. 21
" So centuries went on their way, And brought fresh generations gay On my savannas green to play.
*' There came a cliange. They took my free, My careless ones, and the great sea Blew back their endless sighs to me :
"With earthquake sliudderings oft the mould "Would gape ; I saw keen spears of gold Thrusting red hearts down, not yet cold,
" But throbbing wildly ; dreadful groans Stole upward through Earth's ribbed stones. And crept along through all my zones.
" I sought again my desert bare, But still they followed on the air, And still I hear them everywhere.
" So sit I dreary, desolate.
Till the slow-moving hand of Fate
Shall lift me from my sunken state.'*
Her great lips closed upon her moan ; Silontly sate she on lirr throne, Bigid and black, as carved in stone.
3Iaria Low ell.
22 POEMS OF PLACES.
THE SLAVE'S DREAM.
BESIDE the ungutlierecl rice he lay. His sickle in his hand; His breast was bare, his matted hair
"Was buried in the sand. Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, He saw his native land.
Wide through the landscape of his dreams
The lordly Niger flowed ; Beneath the palm-trees on the plain
Once more a king he strode; And heard the tinkling caravans
Descend the mountain-road.
He saw once more his dark-eyed queen
Among her children stand ; They clasped his neck, they kissed liis cheeks.
They held him by the hand ! — A tear burst from the sleeper's lids
And fell into the sand.
And then at furious speed he rode
Along th3 Niger's bank ; His bridle-reins were golden chains,
And, with a martial clank, At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel
Smiting his stallion's flank.
INTRODUCTORY. 23
Before liini, like a blood-red flag,
Tlie bright flainiiigoos flew : From morn till night he followed tlicir flight.
O'er ])l:»ins where tlic tamarind grew. Till he saw the roofs of CafTrc huts.
And the ocean rose to view.
At niirht he heard the lion roar.
And the hyena scream, And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds,
Beside some hidden stream, And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums.
Through the triumi)h of his dream.
The forests, with their myriad tongues,
Siiouted of lil)erty ; And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,
With a voice so wild and free. That he started in his sleep and smiled
At their tempestuous glee.
He did not feel the driver's whip.
Nor the burning heat of day ; For Deatli liad illumined the Land of Sleep,
And his lifeless body lay A worn-out fetter, that the soul
Had broken and thrown away !
Ilt'Ji/y U'aJsworih Longfellow.
24 POEMS OF PLACES.
IN AFRICA.
A SLAVE, and old, within lier veins There runs that warm, forbidden blood That no man dares to dignify In elevated song. Tlie chains That held her race but yesterday Hold still the hands of men. Porbid Is Ethiop. The turbid flood Of prejudice lies stagnant still, And all the world is tainted. Will And wit lie broken as a lance Against the brazen mailed face Of old opinion.
None advance Steel-clad and glad to the attack, "With trumpet and with song. Look back! Beneath yon pyramids lie hid The histories of her great race. Old Nilus rolls right sullen by, "With all his secrets.
"Who shall say : My father reared a pyramid; My brother chpped the dragon's wings; My mother was Semiramis ? Yea, harps strike idly out of place ; Men sing of savage Saxon kings New-born and known but yesterday.
INTKODLCTOUV. 25
Kay, yc who boast ancostral name And vaunt deeds diguiiicd by time Must not despise her. Who liath worn. Since time began, a faee tliat is So all-endurini,', okl Hke this, — A face like Mriea's r
Behold ! The Sphinx is Africa. The bond Of silence is upon lier. Old And white with tombs, and rent and shorn And trampled on, yet all nntamed ; All naked now, yet not ashamed, — The mistress of the young world's prime Sleeps satisfied upon her fame. Beyond tiie Sphinx, and still beyond. Beyond the tawny desert-tomb Of Time, beyond tradition, loom And lift ghostlike from out the gloom Her thousand cities, battle-torn And gray with story and with time.
She points a hand and cries: " Clo read
The granite obrlisks that lord
Old Rome, and know my name and deed.
My archives these, and pluiidrrrd when
1 had grown weary of all men."
"We turn to these; we cry: " .\.l)h«)rrcd
Old Sphinx, behohl I we cannot nad 1 "
Joaquin Millrr.
THE BARBARY STATES.
Algiers.
ODE ON THE BATTLE OF ALGIERS.
0=
|NE day of dreadful occupation more. Ere England's gallant sliips Shall, of their beauty, pomp, and power disrobed, Like sea-birds on the sunny main, Hock idly in the port.
One day of dreadful occupation more !
A work of righteousness,
Yea, of s»i))limest mercy, must be done :
England will break the oppressor's chain,
And set the captives free.
Red Cross of Eugbuid, wliirh all shores have seen
Triuniphautly displayed.
Thou sacred banner of the glorious Isle,
Known wheresoever keel hath Cut
The navigable deep, —
28 POEMS OF PLACES.
Ne'er didst thou float more proudly o'er the storm
Of havoc aud of death,
Than when, resisting fiercely, but in vain,
Algiers her moony standard lowered,
Aud signed the conqueror's law.
Oh, if the grave Avere sentient, as these Moors
In erring credence hold;
And if the victims of captivity
Could iu the silent tomb have heard
The thunder of the fight, —
Sure their rejoicing dust upon that day
Had heaved the oppressive soil,
And earth been shaken like the mosques and towers.
When England on those guilty walls
Her fiery vengeance sent.
Seldom hath victory given a joy like this, —
When the delivered slave
Revisits once again his own dear home.
And tells of all his sufferings past.
And blesses Exmouth's name.
Ear, far and wide along the Italian shores,
That holy joy exteuds ; Sardiuian mothers pay their vows fulfilled; And hymns are heard beside thy banks, 0 Eountain Arethuse !
Churches shall blaze with lights and riug with praise. And deeper strains shall rise
ALGIERS. 29
From many an overflowing licart to Heaven ;
Nor M'ill they in their prayers forget
The hand that set them free.
Robert Southey.
UNDER THE OLIVES.
"The Sahel of Algiers is tlie range of hills lying between the sea and tiie Atlas Mountains. Tliey are of an average elevation tf fiOO feet, l)ut occasionally attain much greater height. This belt of hills is exceedingly rich and fertile in vegetation, and is cut l)y numerous deep ravines whose sides are clothed witli large olive-trees, with ilex, lentisk, aloes, cactuses, and a profuse undergrowth of shrul)s and wiUl-llowers. In some i)lace3 a narrow plain intervenes between Ihe hills nnd the sea, but at the town itself this plain becomes a mere strip covered by the great square and two streets east and west, at the l)ack of which the houses mount the hill abruptly, divided by steep narrow streets, which frequently l)reak off into steps, and up which no vihicle can pass. On each side of the town the slopes arc dotted with country-houses r.nd lovely gardens. The Gardens of the Hesperides are placed by the poets somewhere at the f(X)t of the Atlas Mountains, whose snowy sumiuits can be seen from the Sahel of Algiers." — Ballads and Su)i</s.
SEATED in a :Nroorish garden On the Sahel of Algiers, "VVandering breezes brouglit the burden
Of its liistory in past years. Lost amidst the mist of ages,
Its first chronielcs arise ;
Yonder is the eliain of Atlas,
And the pagan paradise !
Past these shores the wise Phfcnieians Coasted outwards towards the west,
Hoj)ing there to find Atlantis, And the Islands of the Blest.
30 POEMS OF PLACES.
Somewhere in these mystic valleys Grew the golden-fruited trees,
Wliich the wandering son of Zeus Stole from the Hesperides.
Many monsters, famed in story,
Had their habitations here, Scaly coats and tresses hoary
Struck adventurous souls with fear. Not far off lived Polyphemus,
Glaring with his single eye; Sailors wrecked upon these waters
Only gained their brink to die.
But if ever, while carousing.
Rescued travellers told their feats, — How the elephants came browsing
From the inner desert-heats, How the dragons and the griffins
Likewise howled' along the shore, — Those who listened bade their footsteps
Seek those dreadful realms no more ! * * *
When the veil of History rises,
Carthage owns the glorious state, Planted witli the Arts of Commerce,
And the men who made her great. Rivalled only by Etruria,
She was mistress of the main; Still we have the solemn treaty.
Drawn in brass betwixt them twain.
ALGIERS. 31
One among lier many daiigliters,
lol at lier altars prayed ; Merchants, storm-struck on tlie "w-aters,
Sought this harbor when afraid. All this coast of ancient Afric
Bore her sway and owned her name ; To her western port of lol
Buyei*s flocked and sellers came.
Yearly swarming populations
Poured tlirough Cartilage' busy gates, Bearing forth the seed of nations;
And her ships bore living freigiits Costlier far than pearl or coral, —
Hardy, brave, adventurous men ! As our exiles cling to England,
Sons of Carthage loved her tlien.
They, when working mines in Cornwall,
Gathering ivory near the Line, Pressing gnijies from vines of Cadiz,
Also thought her gods divine ! These blue peaks and golden valleys.
Those white waves of northern foam, Also had tlioir groups of eager.
Loving heads, who called her "home.''
But, ''Belenda est Carthago!''
Was the tiireat ])roelainu'd of yore, —
Scarce a bird now tlaps liis ])inion, AV hite-winged vessels dance no more.
32 POEMS OF PLACES.
Heaps of stone, o'ergrown with brambles.
Mutely eloquent, attest, Men who once called Carthage mother,
Sleep forgotten on her breast.
Lo ! a troop of white-robed Arabs,
Passing in a silent file, rix the eye which else would vainly
Rjinge the plain from mile to mile. Not a dwelling known to Carthage !
Not one temple on the hill ! Empty lie the land-lock ^^d harbors,
Margins bare, and waters still !
Empty graves, through which the hyena
llangcs, laughing at decay. Strike their dark and dangerous labyrinth
Inward from the light of day. And such utter desolation
Triumphs here, it may be said. That of this forgotten nation
Even the graves give up their dead !
On which summit was the Byrsa
Scipio fought five days to gain? Here is naught but what the footstep
In five minutes might attain. Can it be that once a million
People dwelt upon this plain ! * * *
Such is Carthage, lying eastward
Ten days' journey from Algiers;
ALOIKKS. 33
Oil tlie grassy slf)pos of lol
Lie two tliousiiid iiaiiK'less years.
Dead lier sailors, sunk lier vessels, Mcrchauts seek her marts no more;
I have walked midst broken columns Strewed about her souudiui,' shore.
And 1 have retraced the story,
How across that bright blue sea, Clove the sharp prows, keen for glory,
Straight from distant Italy, Manned by warriors whose unbounded
Thirst for conquest nerved them well; And the stiite by Dido founded
Vainly struggled, sadly fell.
Even as the walls of Veii
Fell beneath a Latin wile, Carthage also lowered her scejitre
From the Atlantic to the Nile. This was then called old Numidia,
Underneath the lioman sway; — Ere through centuries dark with bloodshed
J(ose the Crescent of the Dvy.
Once these hills were cmwiu-d with villas, Hipe with harvest all tin'^e jilains ;
Scarce a tniee of Koman sj)lendor Or Athenian art remains.
Little dreams the ro/o/t cT Afruntr^ Roughly ploughing ix»und his home.
34 POEMS OF PLACES.
These ravines midst wliich he labors Once were " granaries of Rome."
Erom this harbor of Icosium
Passed the many-oared trireme. Laden with colonial produce
Bound for Ostia's yellow stream. Sacks of corn and oil of olives,
Strings of dates and jars of Avine, Such the tribute yearly rendered
Hence unto Mount Palatine.
Now, across that waste of waters,
Sailless is the lonely sea, Not a vessel tracks the pathway,
Rome, betwixt Algiers and thee! Por the pulses of a people
With their ralers rise and fall, And Numidia gives her harvest
To defray the tax of Gaul ! * * *
Wliat is tliat red cloud ascending,
Scarcely bigger than a hand. Prom where sea and sky are blending.
Till it hovers o'er the land? See ! the mists are slowly dwining,
We shall see its brightness soon ! 'T is no cloud with silver lining,
But the perfect crescent moon !
'T i^ the emblem of the Prophet Hanging in a violet sky.
ALGIERS. 35
Wliile amidst the cloudy olives
Breaks the jackal's evening cry. Just as if to help my story,
Signs and sounds came into play, Crescent of a fearful glory !
War-cry of a beast of prey !
Dark and dreadful is the legend
Of a thousand years of crime, Since flic writer of the Koran,
riving, marked the flight of Time. Since, from depths of far Arabia,
Rolled the fierce, resistless throng, And the race was to the swift one.
And the battle to the strong.
As T sit within this garden,
All the air is soft and sweet; Endless length of famous waters
Roll to northward at my feet — "Waters where the jnratc vessels.
Year by year and hour by hour, Swept across a trembling ocean,
Seeking what they might devour!
Still in sunlight lies the city.
Here and there a palm-tree waves
Over Moorish mosque and nimpart. Over nameless Christian gnives.
These fair clumps of winter roses Once drank dew of bitter teare ;
30 POEMS OF PLACES.
Christian hearts grew sick with sunshine On the Sahcl of Algiers !
Yet how gallant is the poem
Of the triumph of the Cross ! How the ranks of instant martyrs
In the front filled up the loss ! How tlie slave died in the bagnio !
The crusader at his post ! And for each priest struck, another
Served the altar and the Host !
Hither came the good St. Vincent,
Brouglit a captive o'er the sea, Slave unto a learned doctor
For two weary years was he; Next he served the gentle lady.
Wife to an apostate lord; But, behold, his prayers were fruitful.
And he brought them to accord !
In these prisons languished hundreds; —
Oft the mystic sound of wails, "Wafted over leagues of ocean.
Wept and murmured past Marseilles. In the chapels siiook the tapers
As the spirit-wind passed by, And the noblest swords in Europe
Leapt responsive to the cry.
When, at length, the Sails of Rescue Loomed upon the northern wave.
ALGIERS. 87
All the voicos (.f the martyrs
Welcome breatlicd Iroin tliis their grave. Past the town, aud round the luouiitaius,
See the stately ilect advance ; — And tlie children of St. Louis
riant the tleurs-de-lis of Fnuice ! * * *
Seated in a Moorish i^arden
On the Sahcl of Algiers, I can hear a tender burden,
Like the music of the spheres. Not from any mortal voices
Could tliat tender music come ! ISo ! It is a strain famiHar —
'T is the hynni we sin^ at home !
As it soars above the olives,
Drops below the ])ine-elad hills, "What a vast and tender memory
Mine imai^ination tills ! Trom tile grave where She lay buried,
Fifteen hundred years are rolled, And the church of St. Augustine
Steps regenerate as of ohl !
llipjx) lies a shapeless ruin,
All her ramparts overthrown ; Yet, wiierever men are Ciiristians,
Her great Hishop's name is known. Over Ili|)|)t) l)l(>w tiie bree/.es,
Sighing from the great blue sea; —
38 POEMS or PLACES.
Yet of all our living preachers Who so powerful as he ?
Once, upon a Sabbath morning,
I at Bona heard the bells In a chorus — as the water
Sharply ebbs and softly swells. And to me it seemed the mountains
Echoed back a sweet refrain. That the ruined church of Hippo
Harbored prayer and praise again!
When the bared, bowed head of Jerome
Tell before the flashing sword; — When both Marcellin and Cyril
To the last confessed the Lord; W^lien St. Felix fell at Carthage,
Struck with clubs ; and in the flames Saints Severian and Aquila
(Married lovers) knit their names
In a more immortal linking,
As twin martyrs for the faith; When St. Marcian at Cherchell
Faced the cruel teeth of death; — - They did more than bear brave witness
To the glorious hearts of old ; For they laid the strong foundation
Of the universal Fold.
In that great stone ring at Cherchell Grass hath muffled all the ground;
ALGIERS. 39
All the circling seats arc empty,
Not a motion or a sound ! Pause ! 0 feet tliat here tread lightly !
Hush ! 0 voice discoursing here ! Spirits of tlie just made perfect
Doubtless often linger near !
What if in that calm arena
Where the sunbeams softly sleep. You, with many an aching bosom,
Dared not cry and could not weep ! What if Marcian ■wore the features —
Dear blue eyes and soft brown hair, — And you saw the savage creatures
Leap infuriate from their lair? * * *
Yet, 0 dreadful dream of Cherchell !
That was what was undergone In that circle where the fruit-trees
Like a faint reflection shone. Now for every martyr noted
In the list I read to-day, Is a tender special mention
When Algerian Christians pray.
Down the hill I sec the belfry
And the quaint old Moorish porch ;
Hark ! the little bell is swinging. Calling willing feet to church.
Down the lane between tlie olives, Then across the wide white road;
40 POEMS OF PLACES.
Stranger, if your lieart is heavy, Take it to tliat liushed abode,
T^liere the lamp burns ever dimly
All throughout the sunny day, But shines clear upon the arches
As the twilight fades away. You will find the weight drop from you, —
Leave it there among the flowers. Which beneath the Christian altar
Mark the change of Christian hours.
Quaint old court of True Believer,
All thy truth is overthrown ! Servants of another Master
Now have claimed thee for their own; Built his altar, placed around it
Irises and asphodels; — Where to-morrow some new glory
Will unfold its buds and bells.
Sitting in this golden stillness
All my thoughts turn back to them
Who in such an Eastern sunshine Worshipped at Jerusalem !
Are they then a living presence, After all these changing years ?
Hark, how many bells are ringing
On the Sahel of Algiers
Bessie Uayner Parkes.
ALGIERS. 4i
THE ENCHANTED BATHS.
I " The Ilamman Maskonteen, tlie Silent or Inrliantcd Baths, are situated
i on a low {ground, suri-ounded witli mountains. There are several foun-
tains ihat furnish the water, whicli is of an intense heat, and fall after- wards into the Zenati." — Shaw's Trarels in Barbury.
THE sounds which last he licard at night Awoke his recollection first at morn, A scene of wonders lay before his eyes. In mazy windings o'er the vale A thousand streamlets strayed. And in their endless course Had intersected deep the stony soil, With labyrintliine channels islanding
A thousand rocks, which seemed
Amid the multitudinous waters there
Like clouds that freckle o'er the summer sky.
The blue ethereal ocean circling each,
And insulating all.
Those islets of the living rock
Were of a thousand sliapes,
And Nature with her various tints
Diversified anew their thousand forms ;
For some were green witli moss,
Some ruddier tinged, or gray, or silver-white.
And some witli yellow lichens glowed like gold,
Some sparkled Sj)arry radiance to tlie sun.
Here guslied the fountains up, Alternate light and blackness, hke the play
42 POEMS OF PLACES.
Of sunbeams on a warrior's burnished arms. Yonder the river rolled, whose ample bed,
Their sportive lingerings o'er, Received and bore away the confluent rills.
This was a wild and wondrous scene.
Strange and beautiful, as where
By Oton-tala, like a sea of stars.
The hundred sources of Hoangho burst.
High mountains closed the vale.
Bare rocky mountains, to all living things
Inhospitable; on whose sides no herb
Rooted, no insect fed, no bird awoke
Their echoes, save the eagle, strong of wing,
A lonely plunderer, that afar
Sought in the vales his prey.
Robert Southey.
Atlas ^ the Mountain.
THE MOUNTAIN STREAMS.
AND down the streams which clove those mountains vast Around their inland islets, and amid The panther-peopled forests, whose shade cast
Darkness and odors, and a pleasure hid In melancholy gloom, the pinnace past; By many a star-surrounded pyramid
CAirniAr.E.
43
Of icy crag cleaving Uio pur])lc sky,
And caverns yawning round unfathomahly.
The silver noon into that winding dell,
With slanted gleam athwart the forest tops, Tempered like golden evening, feebly fell ;
A green and glowing light, like that wliieh drops From folded lilies in wliich glowworms dwell.
When earth over her face night's mantle wraps; Between the severed mountains lay on high Over the stream, a narrow rift of sky. * * *
And ever down the prone vale, like a cloud
Upon a stream of wind, the ])iiin;iee went : Now lingering on the ])ools, in wliioli ai)ode
Tlie calm and darkness of the deep content In which they paused; now o'er tlie shallow road
Of white and dancing waters all besprent With sands and polished pe])bles : mortal boat In such a shallow rapid could not float.
Percy Byssht' SLellty.
Car th age,
CARTH.\r,E.
TTTEEE was an aneicnl city, Carthage, held By Tyrian settlers, facing from afar Ttalia, and the distant Til)cr's montli; Kich in resources, fierce in war's })ursuits :
44 POEMS OF PLACES.
And this one city, Juno, it was said,
Tar more than every other land esteemed,
Samos itself being less. Here were her arms.
Her chariot here ; e'en then the goddess strives
With earnest hope to found a kingdom here
Of universal sway, should fate permit.
But of a race derived from Trojan blood
She had heard, who would o'erturn the Tyriau towers
One day, and that a people of wide rule.
And proud in war, descended thence, would come
For Libya's doom. So did the Fates decree.
Virgil. Tr. C. P. Crunch.
CARTHAGE.
0 DEGENERATE child of a kind compassionate mother. That to the might of Rome addest the cunning of Tyre ! But this ruled by her power the earth which her valor had conquered — That instructed the world which by her prudence she won. Say, what doth history tell of thee ? She tells, thou didst ever Win like the Roman by steel, rule like the Tyrian by gold.
Frieclrich von Schiller. Tr. J. II. Merivale.
CARTHAGE. 45
MARIUS AMIDST THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE.
CARTHAGE,*! love thee! tliuu hast run — As I — a warlike race ; And now thy glory's radiant sun Hath veiled in clouds his face: Thy days of pride — as mine — depart ; Thy gods desert thee, and thou art
A thing as nobly base As he whose sullen footstep falls
To-niglit around thy crumbling walls.
And Rome hath heaped her woes and jiains
AHke on me and tliee ; And thou dost sit in servile chains, —
But mine they shall not be! Though fiercely o'er this aged head The wrath of angry Jove is shed,
Marius shall still be free, — Free in the pride thai scorns his foe, And bares the head to meet the blow.
I wear not yet thy slavery's vest,
As desolate I roam ; And thougli tlic sword were at my ))rcast,
The torches in my liome, Still, — still, for orison and vow, I 'd fling them back my curse — as now ;
I scorn, I hate thee, — Rome ! My voice is weak to word and threat, My arm is strong to battle yet !
Winlhiop Mack worth Pracd.
46 POEMS OF PLACES.
MARIUS.
SUGGESTED BY A PAINTING BY VANDERLYN, OF MARIUS SEATED AMONG THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE.
PILLARS are fallen at thy feet. Fanes quiver in the air, A prostrate city is thy seat, xiiid thou alone art there.
No change comes o'er thy noble brow.
Though ruin is around tliee ; Thine eye-beam burns as proudly now,
As when the laurel crowned thee.
It cannot bend thy lofty soul, Though friends and fame depart;
The car of fate may o'er thee roll. Nor crush thy Roman heart.
And Genius hath electric power.
Which earth can never tame; Bright suns may scorch, and dark clouds lower.
Its flash is still the same.
The dreams we loved in early life
May melt like mist away; High thoughts may seem, mid passion's strife.
Like Carthage in decay.
And proud hopes in the human heart May be to ruin hurled.
CARTHAGE. 47
Like inoiililcriiii:^ nionuiiiciits of art Heaped on a slrcpiiii; world.
Yet there is soiiietliiii<i^ will not die,
"VVherc life lialli onec been fair; Some towering tlioiigliis still rear on high,
Some liomaii lingers there !
Li/dia Maria Child.
CARTHAGE.
LOW it lieth,— earth to earth,— All to whieh that earth gave birth : Palace, market-street, and fane; Dust that never asks in vain, Ilath reclaimed its own again.
Dust, the wide world's king.
"Ulierc are now the glorious hours Of a nation's gathered ])Owers? Like tlie setting of a star, In the fathomless afar ;
Time's eternal wing Hath around those ruins east The (lark presenee of the j)ast.
Mind, what art thou ? dost thou not Hold the vast earlii lor tli> lot ? In thy toil, how glorious ! \Viiat dost thou achieve for us? Over all vietorioiis
(jiodlike thou dost seem.
48 POEMS OF PLACES.
But the perishing still lurks In thy must immortal works ; Thou dost build thy home on sand. And the palace-girdled strand
Padeth like a dream. Thy great victories only show
All is notliiugness below.
Letltia Elizabeth Landon.
HANNIBAL'S OATH.
AND the night was dark and calm. There was not a breath of air. The leaves of the grove were still, As the presence of death were there;
Only a moaning sound Came from the distant sea. It was as if, like life, It had no tranquilUty.
A warrior and a child Passed through the sacred wood. Which, like a mystery. Around the temple stood.
The warrior's brow was worn
"With the weight of casque and plume;
And sunburnt was his cheek.
And his eye and brow were gloom.
CAUTIIAGE. 4U
The cliild was young and fair, But the I'orelicad huge and liigh, And the dark eyes' llasliing light Seemed to feel their destiny.
They entered in to the temple, And stood before the sliriue, It streamed witii the victim's blood, "With iuceiise and uith wiue.
The ground rocked l)cnf'a11i tlieir feet. The thunder shook the dome, But the boy stood firm aud swore Eternal hate to Home.
There 's a page in history
O'er which tears of blood were wept,
And that page is the record
How that oath of hate was kept.
Letilia Elizabeth Landon.
CAHTnAGE.
AFTER A riCTrUK HY LINTON.
IS it some vision of tlie chirr day, Won from the Dcad-Sca waters, by a spell Like hers who waked the prophet? — or a dream Of burning Egypt, — ere the Libyan sand Had Hung its pall above its jM-rished world, — Dreamt ou its dreary grave, that has uo flowers ?
50 POEMS OF PLACES.
It is tlic eastern orplian's oc?an-home !
The soutliern queen ! the city of the sea,
Ere Venice was a name! the lofty heart
That battled for the empire of tlie world,
And all but won, — yet perished in the strife!
Now, in her young, proud beauty; the blue waves.
Like vassals, bending low to kiss lier feet.
Or dancing to their own sweet minstrelsy !
The olives hanging round her crested front.
Like laurel-crowns npon a victor's brow !
Beneath her palms, and mid her climbing bowers.
Darts, like a sunny flash, the antelope !
And bound the wild deer, where the severing bonghs
Wave forth a goddess ! in her hunter-guise.
She wakes the perfumes of the Tyrian's groves,
To welcome from the waves her pilgrim boy,
And point his tangled pathway, to the towers
That to his homeless spirit speak of home !
Alas ! the stately city ! it is here,
Here, mid this palace pomp and leafy store,
(Bright as some landscape which the poet sees
Painted, by sunset, on a summer sky.
In hues the dolphin borrows when he dies!)
Mid all this clustering loveliness and life.
Where treads the Trojan, — that, in after years,
A lonelier exile and a loftier chief
Sat amid ruins !
Thomas Kibble Hervey.
CARTHAGE. 51
CAKTHAGE.
I STAND in Cartliagc ; Dido's city liore Kose into power, and Avavcd licr Avaiid of fear ; The seaman liailed her h)fty towers afar, Each gilded palaec glittering like a star; Armies obeyed her nod, a conntless host, And bee-like Commerce hninmed along the coast; Gems, gold, — all wealth within her Malls was seen, And tawny Afric bowed, and owned her queen. City of Hannibal ! who not in vain Swore hate to Kome, and crossed the heaving main, Climbed with his dauntless bands yon Alpine height, And southward poured, an avalanche in his might, While Rome confessed the terror of his name. Drooped lier bright eye, and hung her head in shame, For those who sank by Thrasymenc's side, And those whose blood tlic flowers of Cannrc dyed. I stand in Carthage : "What ! no humble town, No village left to speak her old renown ? Not e'en a tower, a wall? O ruthless years! To spare not these to pride and ])ity's tears; IVell was avenging Scipio's task ])crformed, Tlie flames announced it. and the towers he stormed; But yours hath been far belter, desert laiul, "Where scarce a ])alm-tree crowns the heaps of sand. Old mouldering cisterns, rude unshapen stones, — For e'en tlie graves are gDiie. and leave no ])()nes, — A half-choked stream, amid whose sedcre is heard
52 POEMS OF PLACES.
The mournful cry of Afric's desert bird, — Tliesc, Carthage, terror once of earth and sea. Are all dark time hath left to tell of thee.
Nicholas Michell.
Derne.
THE STORMING OF DERNE.
The storming of tlie city of Derne, in 1805, by General Eaton, at tlic head of nine Americans, forty Greeks, and a motley array of Turks and Aral)s, was one of those feats of hardihood and darini; wliich lia\ e in all aj^es attracted the admiraticm of the multitude. Tiie hij^her and holier heroism of Christian self-denial and sacrifice, in the humble walks of jiri- vate duty, is seldom so well appreciated.
NIGHT on the city of the Moor ! On mosque and tomb, and white-wallcd shore. On sea-waves, to whose ceaseless knock The narrow harbor-gates unlock, On corsair's galley, carack tall, And plundered Christian caraval ! Tlie sounds of Moslem life are still ; No mule-bell tinkles down the hill; Stretched in the broad court of the khan, The dusty Bornou caravan Lies heaped in slumber, beast and man. Tlie Slieik is dreaming in his tent. His noisy Arab tongue o'erspcnt; The kiosk's glinnnering lights are gone. The mercha^^t with his wares withdrawn :
DKKNE. 53
Rouf^h pillowed oil some pinitc brrast, Tlic (laiu'inp-t,'iil Las sunk to rest ; And, save wlirre incasun'd footsteps fall Alon*^ the lias haw's f^iarded wall, Or where, like some bad dream, the Jew Creeps stealthily, his quarter through, Or eounts with fear his jjoldcu heaps. The City of the Corsair sleejis I
B«it where you prison lon^ aud low Stands bkck a^nst the jkiIc star-plow, Chafed by the eeaseless wash of waves. There watch and june the Christian slaves ; l(<)iii,'h-beurdtd men, whose far-cifl" wives "Wear out with prief their louely lives; And youth, still thisliiup from his eyes The clear blue of New Kuphuul skies, A treasured lock of whose soft Iwiir TS'ow wakes son>e sorrowini: mother's prayer; Or, worn uixm some maiden bn-ast. Stirs with the loving heart's unnst !
A bitter cup each life must dmin,
Tlic proauinp earth is e\irsed with jviin,
And, like the scn»]l the anpel lH)n\
The shudderiup Hebrew mmt bi'forc,
O'erwrit ahke, without, williiii,
AVith all the woes which follow sin ;
iJut, bitten-st of the ills iHueath,
AN hose load man totters do\^n to (h-ath,
Is that which plucks the rt-gal crywn
51 POEMS OF PLACES.
Of Treedom from his forelicad down, And snatches from his powerless liand The sceptred sign of self-command. Effacing with the chain and rod The image and the seal of God ; Till from his nature, day by day. The manly virtues fall away, And leave him naked, blind and mute. The godlike merging in the brute !
"V^Hiy mourn the quiet ones who die
Beneath affection's tender eye.
Unto their household and their kin
Like ripened corn-sheaves gathered in?
O weeper, from that tranquil sod.
That holy harvest-home of God,
Turn to the quick and suffering, — shed
Thy tears upon the living dead !
Thank God above thy dear ones' graves.
They sleep with Him, — they are not slaves.
What dark mass, down the mountain-sides
Swift-pouring, like a stream divides?
A long, loose, straggling caravan,
Camel and horse and armed man.
The moon's low crescent, glimmcnng o'er
Its grave of waters to the shore,
Lights up that mountain cavalcade,
And glints from gun and spear and blade
Near and more near ! — now o'er them falls
The shadow of the city walls.
«
DERXE. 65
Hark to tlio sentrv's cliallon^r, drowiud III tlic fierce trunij)et's chari^'iiii^ souml I — The nisli of men, the inu.sket's })eal, The short, sharj) ehiiij,' of iiieetiug steel !
Vain, Moslem, vain tliy lifcblood ])ourcd So freely on tliy foenuiu's sword ! Not to the swift nor to the strong The battles of tlie right belong; Tor he who strikes for Freedom wears The armor of the eajjtive's jiniyers, And Nature proffers to liis eause Tlic strengtli of her eternal laws ; Wliilc lie whose arm essays to biud. And herd with common brutes liis kind, Strives evennore at feai-ful odds AVith Nature and the j('ah)us gxls. And dares the dread recoil whicli late Or soon tlieir right sliall vindicate.
'T is done, -- tlie horm'd crescent falls!
The star-dag tlouts the broken walls!
Joy to the ca|)tivc husl)and ! jny
To tliy sick heart, () brown-hicked boy !
In sullen wnith the conquered Moor
AVide open flings your dungcon-door.
And leaves ye free from cell antl chain,
The owners of youi^selvcs again.
Dark as his allies desert -l)orn,
Soiled with the battle's stain, and worn
With the long marches of his band
56 POEMS OF PLACES.
Througli hottest wastes of rock and sand, — Scorched by the sun and furnace-breath Of the red desert's wind of death, With welcome words and grasping hands, The victor and deliverer stands !
The tale is one of distant skies ;
The dust of lialf a century lies
Upon it ; yet its hero's name
Still lingers on the lips of Fame.
Men speak the praise of him who gave
Daliverance to the Moorman's slave.
Yet dare to brand with shame and crime
The heroes of our land and time, —
The self-forgetful ones, who stake
Home, name, and life for Freedom's sake.
God mend his heart who cannot feel
The impulse of a holy zeal.
And sees not, with his sordid eyes,
Tlie beauty of self-sacrifice !
Though in tlie sacred place he stands,
Upliiting consecrated hands,
Uuwortliy are his lips to tell
Of Jesus' martyr-miracle,
Or name aright that dread embrace
Of suffering for a fallen race !
John Greenleaf Whlttier.
UTICA. 57
Utica.
CATO'S SOLILOQUY.
IT must be so, — Plato, tliou rcasou'st well! — Else whence this ])leasinr,' hope, this fond desire, This longin^^ after inniiortality ? Or whence tliis secret dread, and inward horror, Of falling into nanght ? AVhy shrinks the soul Back on hei*self, and startles at destruction? *T is the divinity that stirs within us ; 'T is heaven itself, that points out an hereafter. And intimates eternity to man. Eternity ! thou pleasing, dreadful thonght ! Through what variety of untried being, Through what new scenes and changes mnst we pass ! The wide, the unbonndcd ])n)speet lies before me; But shadows, elonds, and darkness rest upon it. Here will I hohl. If there 's a power above us (And that there is all nature cries aloud Tlirough all her works), he must delight in virtue; And that which he delights in nnist be hapj)y. But when! or where ! — This world was made for
Cffsar. I 'm weary of conjectures. — This must end them. {Lat/iiiff his hand upon his sirord.) Thus am 1 doubly armed : my drath and life, !My bane and antidote, are both before nie :
;8 POEMS OF PLACES.
Tliis ill a moment brings me to an end, But this informs me I shall never die. The soul, secured in her existence, smiles At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years ; But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth. Unhurt amidst the war of elements. The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.
Joseph Addison.
1
I
EGYPT, KUBIA, AND ABYSSINIA.
INTRODUCTORY.
EGYPT.
THUS spoke tlic Goddess of the fearless eye; Aud at her voice renewed the Vision rose :
"For Greece my sons of E!X>i>t T forsook;
A boastful race, tliat in the vain abyss
Of fabhiic^ ac^os loved to lose their source.
And with their river traced it from tlie skies.
"While there my laws alone despotic reicrned,
And king^, as well as people, proud obeyed ;
I tauf^ht them science, virtue, wisdom, arts;
Ry poets, saf]^es, le^islatf)rs soui^lit ;
The school of polislied life, and human-kind.
But when mysterious Sujierstition canjc.
And. witli her Civil Sister lea,i]:«icd, involved
In studied darkness the desponding? mind ;
Then Tyrant Power the riirhtcons seourcre nnlooscd
Tor yielded reason speaks the send a slave.
60 POEMS OF -PLACES.
Instead of useful works, like nature's, great, ,
Enormous, cruel wonders crushed the land;
And round a tyrant's tomb, who none deserved.
For one vile carcass perished countless lives.
Then the great Dragon, couched amid his floods.
Swelled his fierce heart, and cried, " This flood is mine,
'Tis I that bid it flow." But, undeceived.
His frenzy soon the proud blasphemer felt ;
Telt that, without my fertilizing power.
Suns lost tlieir force, and Niles o'erflowed in vain."
James Thomson.
EGYPT.
HAIL ! Egypt ! land of ancient pomp and pride, Where Beauty walks by lioary Ruin's side ; Where Plenty reigns, and still the seasons smile, And rolls — rich gift of God! — exhaustless Nile. Land of the pyramid and temple lone ! Whose fame, a star, on earth's dark midniglit shone; Bright seat of wisdom, graced with arts and arms. Ere Home was built, or smiled fair Athens' charms ; AVhat OAves the past, the living world to thee ? All that refines, sublimes humanity. The tall papyrus whispering seems to say, Here rose the letters Cadmus bore away. Tlie Greek to thee his Jove and Bacchus owes. With many a tale that charms, and thought that glows. In thy famed schools the Samian learnt liis lore. That souls, though wandering, live forevermore ; The giant structures piled on Gizeh's plain Speak of the sages watcliiiig heaven's bright train.
INTUODUCTORY. CI
Who first years, nioiitlis divided, traced afar
The comet's course, and luiuied each glittering star.
AVorsliipped of old, whence (lows the Nile's j)roud wave? From what far spring, green vale, or sunless cave? Vainly its fountains curious pilgrims seek; The solveless mystery ages fail to break. Sure on the spring some god hath set his seal. Sworn the blight waters never to reveal : But if mid Ethiop wilds, or Lunar steeps. Her secret charge the jealous Naiad keeps, Sleeking her locks unseen in that bright well, And i^lanting ilowers where only sylphs may dwell, Wiiat boots it? bounding from his cnulUng-phiee, Young Nile comes forth, to run his giant race, Poui*s down Sennar, and washes Nubia's wild. Fresh, full, and free, as when first Nature smiled ; Foams o'er the granite ridge by Souan's shore, "With flashing billow, and with sidlen roar; Still sees the teni|)lc crown his palmy banks. And hoary Sphinxes sleep, in long-drawn ranks. ^Vhat though no njore the priest on Isis calls. Or grand processions sweep from .Memphis' walls, Praying the flood to rise o'er bower and field. Still swell the waves, and wonted i)lessings yield; And sweet the stream to ti-aveller's thirsty lip. As wiien the Egyptian deemed it heaven to >ip ; And green the Hags, ami fair the lotus-llower. As when that babe, within his i)ulru^h-bower, Tiie embryo leader. Fanie's immortal heir, Smiled on the royal maids who found him there.
yicho/a.t M I c /it'll.
63 POEMS OF PLACES.
EGYPT.
FANTASTIC Sleep is busy with my eyes: I seem in some waste solitude to stand Once ruled of Cheops : upon either hand A dark illimitable desert lies, Sultry and still, — a realm of mysteries ; A wide-browed Sphinx, half buried in the sand, With orbless sockets stares across the land, The woefulest thing beneath these brooding skies, Where all is woeful, weird-lit vacancy. 'T is neither midnight, twiUght, nor moonrise. Lo ! while I gaze, beyond the vast sand-sea The nebulous clouds are downward slowly drawn. And one bleared star, faint-glimmering like a bee, Is shut in the rosy outstretched hand of Dawn.
Thomas Bailei/ Aldrich.
EGYPT.
AND now the winds that southward blow. And cool the hot Sicilian isle. Bear me away. I see below The long line of the Lybian Nile, Flooding and feeding the parched lands With annual ebb and overflow : A fallen palm whose branches lie Beneath the Abyssinian sky. Whose roots are in Egyptian sands.
INTRODUCTORY. 63
On eitlicr bank huge water-^A-lieels, Belted with jars and dripping weeds. Send forth their melancholy moans, As if, in their gray mantles liid, Dead anchorites of the Thebaid Knelt on the shore and told their beads, Beating their breasts with loud appeals And penitential tears and groans.
This city, walled and thickly set
"With glittering mosque and minaret.
Is Cairo, in M'hose gay bazaars
The dreaming traveller first inhales
The perfume of Arabian gales,
And sees the fabulous earthen jars.
Huge as were those wherein tlie maid
Morgiana found the Forty Thieves
Concealed in midnight ambuscade ;
And seeing more than half beUeves
The fascinating tales tliat run
Through all the Thousand Nights and One,
Told by the fair Scheherezade,
More strange and wonderful than these Are the Egyptian deities — Ammon, and Emoth, and the grand Osiris, holding in his hand The lotus ; Isis, crowned and veiled ; The sacred Ibis, and the Sphinx ; Bracelets with blue-enamclIed links; The Scarabee in emerald mailed.
64 POEMS OF PLACES.
Or spreading wide liis funeral wings ; Lamps that perchance their night-watch kept O'er Cleopatra while she slept, — All plundered from the tombs of kings.
Henri/ Wadsworth Longfellow.
EGYPT.
'm IS darkness all, with hateful silence joined —
-L Here drowsy bats enjoy a dull repose. And marble coffins, vacant of their bones. Show where the royal dead in ruin lay ! By every pyramid a temple rose Where oft, in concert, those of ancient time Sung to their goddess Isis hymns of praise ; But these are fallen ! — their columns too superb Are levelled with the dust, nor these alone — Where is thy vocal statue, Memnon, now, That once, responsive to the morning beams. Harmoniously to Father Phoebus sung ? Where is thy image tliat in past time stood High on the summit of yon pyramid? — Still may you see its poUshed pedestal; Where art thou, ancient Thebes? — all buried low. All vanished ! crumbled into mother dust. And nothing of antiquity remains But these huge pyramids and yonder hills.
FhUij) Treneau.
INTUODUCTORY. 65
EGYPT.
A VISION of a River, and a Land "Where no rain falls, which is the river's bed, Through which it flows from waters far away, Great lakes, and springs unknown, increasing slow, \ -Hr^ Till the midsuininer currents, rushing red. Come overflowing the banks day after day, Like ocean billows that devour the strand,
Till, lo ! there is no land, Save the elilFs of granite that enclose their flow. And the waste sands beyond; subsiding then Till land comes up again, and the husbandmen (Chanting hymns the while) Sow their sure crops, which till midwiuter be
Green, gladdening the old Nile As he goes on his gracit^us journey to the Sea ! Land of strange gods, human, and beast, and bird, ^Vhere animals were sacred and adored,
Tlie great bull Apis being of these the chief; Pasth, with her woman's breast and lion face, IManed, with her long arms streteiiing down her thighs ; Dog-faced Anubis, haler of the dead
To judgment; Nu, with the ram's head and curled
horns ; And Athor, whom a tem])led crown adorns ; And Mut, the vulture ; and the liigher Tiiree, — The goddess-mother Isis, and her lord. Divine Osiris, wliom dark Tvplion slew.
66 POEMS OF PLACES.
^ Por whom, in her great grief
(Leading unfathered Horus, weeping too). She wandered up and down, lamenting sore. Searching for lost Osiris : Libya heard
Her lamentations, and her rainy eyes Flooded the shuddering Nile from shore to shore.
Till she had found, in many a secret place, The poor dismembered body (can it be These are supreme Osiris ? ) whereat she
Gathered the dear remains that Typhon hid.
And builded over each a Pyramid In thirty cities, and was queen no more ; I'or Horus governed in his father's stead,
The crowns of Earth and Heaven on his anointed head ! Trom out the mists of hoar Antiquity
Straggle uncertain figures, gods or men —
Menes, Atliothis, Cheops, and Khafren; No matter who these last were, what they did. Save that each raised a monstrous Pyramid To house his mummy, and they rise to-day
Rifled thereof! And she — Colossal Woman, couchant in the sands, Who has a lion's body, paws for hands (If she was winged, like the Theban one.
The wide-spread wings are gone) : Nations have fallen round her, but she stands ;
Dynasties came and went, but she went not : She saw the Pharaohs and the Shepherd Kings,
Chariots and horsemen in their dread array — Cainbyses, Alexander, Anthony,
IMIlODrCTORV. 07
The hosts of standards, and the en,c:lc ^^"in?s, "Whom, to her ruinous sorrow, Egypt drew -.
She saw, and slie forgot — Remembered not the old gods nor the new,
AVhich were to her as though they had not been ; Kemembcred not the opulent, great Queen, Whom riotous misbecomings so became — Temptress, whom none could tame, Splendor and danger, fatal to ])cguilc ; Remembered not tlie serpent of old Nile, Nor the Herculean Roman she loved and overthrew ! Half buried in the sand it lies : It neither questions nor replies; And what is coming, what is gone, Disturbs it not : it looks straiglit on, Under the everlasting skies, In what eternal Eyes !
Out of all this a Presence comes, and stands Full-fronted, as who turns upon the Past, Modern among the ancients, and tlie last
Of re-born, risen nations: in her hands.
That once so many scp])tres held, and rods,
A j)alm leaf set with jcwtls : Priiici-ss, siie — She has her palaces along tlie Nile, Iler navies on the sea ; And in the temj)les of her fallen gods
(Not hers — she knows l)ut the One God over all),
She hears from holy mosques the muezzin's call, " Lo, Allah is most great ! " And when the dawn Is drawing near, "Prayer better is than Sleep."
G8 POEMS or PLACES.
She rides abroad ; her curtains are undrawn —
She walks with Hfted veil, nor hides her smile, Nor the sweet, luminous eyes, where languors creep No more : slie is no more Circassian girl.
But Princess, Avoman with the mother breast ; No Cleopatra to dissolve the pearl
And take the asp — the East become the West ! Honor to Egypt — honor ; May Allah smile upon her !
Blchard Henry Stoddard.
A VISION OF OLD EGITT.
METHOUGHT I floated on the ancient Nile 'Neath an abrupt and weird craggy pile. Its flame-hued clifts caverned with many a tomb, Haunt of lone winds and birds of dusky plume. A boat with monks that chanted floated nigh ; But when they paused, some awful far reply Came ever from the mountain's heart : one said, " xV voice from old-world priests of ages dead, Who slumbering in their stupendous fane Deep in yon mountain's heart are roused again With a faint consciousness that stirs and dies To breathe a note of hoary litanies, Erewhile they chanted while impassive Death Quenched ever some poor heart's weak flame of faith. A tone it seemed bereft of life, unblest. Emptied of thought and joy, vaguely opprest A moment witli tlie living voice of prayer They have proved wasted on the lifeless air.
I
INTRODUCTORY. 69
Einhci's of old liopc wake to feel the doom Ur Miiotlicred souls in cverltibtiug gloom.
Then changed the scene, — for it -was dark around: Mcthought I lay in silence drear profound On some hot sand ; the close incumbent air Keeked faint as from some dismal creaturi^'s lair. Some presence nigh of bird or ])east obscene. Hyena, bat, that loves to lurk unseen. And yet a dubious glimmer near me lay Upon the sand, and slow the space to gray Opened about me till I dim defined Columnar miusses pale gigantic-lined Kude, huge and lofty, with no capital Or fretted moulding wrought fantastical. Titanic blocks each horizontal laid Prom pier to pier, bridging abysmal shade. Aiul lo ! I saw each giant pillar bulged With form stupendous as of man, divulged, Standing each speechless, vast along the stone, Each to the full height of his ])illar grown, — A colonnade of these on either hand My twilit nave ; afar they vague expand. To my rapt vision dwiiulling inlinite, rhantoms assembling in Ihe halls of Night ! And then I noted nigli a crevice small; Through this I deemed that Day into the Hall Passed half in awe to melt the shroud of gloom That broods o'er tlicsc in their eternal tomb. These then in pauses of the living prayer IV ailed that antistrophe of Death's despair !
70 POEMS OF PLACES.
And still Night jealous claims them for her oahi, Nor may her shadow free from them be tlirown. But silent like black water it abides Forever resting down their mighty sides. Their mummied forms are like tlieir faces pale, Each in vast crossing hands the crook and flail Of an Osirian on his bosom broad Holds folded close, each mitred like the god.
Their presence weighs upon the mortal sense. Informs witli fear the solitude intense. Voiceless and moveless pale forever there. In some unguessed unlmman-wise aware. But calm serene is evei-y countenance, Unvexed more of any human chance. Sublime unearthly in its restfulness. Quiet in destiny the passionless. Fond fool ! to dream that hopes or joys or woes Of ours may ruffle this innnense repose ! Can ever these have been of mortal race. Crushing for pelf or fame with eager face, Throbbing for pleasure, flushed elate with gain. Sullen or blank with loss and lit again? Yea, these were mortal, even as thyself, And thou shalt be as they, O wildered elf! Blo^^l tossed like sere leaves, little comforted. Thou shalt be tranquil calm as are the dead ! Even thy vain bubble-turmoil in the flood Viewed from the still height very grand and good!
Kmdred with twilight now my vision grows. And straight between each pillared phantom shows
INTRODUCTOKY.
Sunk in tlie darkness a sarcophagus, Heart of the darkness, solid, ponderous; The massy lid of eaeh, prodigious, shoved Awry as though the dread inmate had moved. Then I knew these were Pharaohs of the Sun, Ramses-Sesostris, Amunoph-Meinnon, Sesortassn, and many a power beside, Priest-kings imperial, who strode in pride Over dwarfed continents astonished pale Making the hearts of all the nations fail — Then every breath bore rumors of their fame: What arc they now ? the shadow of a name ! ♦ * ♦
'Tis noon, relentless rules the blaze Of our Sun-god that ne'er a breeze aUays. Far, far away the windless river burning Through wan sand-levels dimly banked Of distant yellow hills, but nearer flanked With palm-girt, loam-built thorps at every turning, And oft a huge stone tem])le si)rcad With obelisk and sphinx and banner red ; Silent from heat our swarthy sailors towing The boat becalmed with rope on land; Anon some baked wavc-miudcd mass at hand From yon loam-ridge is loosened in their goiug, Falling with sudden splasli and thud, Nor mars my soul's luxurious mood Enhanced of distant water-wheels' long droning, For dreamy listlessness akin To hazy light the lulled world swooncth in. I know the hiud in midst of that intonincr
72 POEMS OF PLACES.
Sits in the centre of the wheel While hemp-slung jars tilt ever and refill, A yoke of patient circling oxen guiding, Roofed from the scorching glare By large leaves of the melons trellised there. On yon low sandllat motionless abiding, Behold a crocodile, and nigh Upon the neighbor bank one may espy Some ibis wliite with pink flamingoes resting ; But when day waiicth we shall hear Clangor of wild geese in the crystal clear, Their living chain wedge wise the glory breasting.
Iloden Nuet.
THE EGYPTIAX TRINCESS.
THERE was fear and desolation over swarthy Egypt's land,
From the holy city of the sun to hot Syene's sand ;
The sistrum and the cymbal slept, the merry dance no more
Trampled the evening river-buds by Nile's embroidered shore,
For the daughter of the king must die, the dark ma- gician said.
Before the red sun sank to rest that day in ocean's bed.
And all that day the temple-smoko loaded the heav^y air. But they prayed to one who nccdcth n^iic, nor heareth earnest prayer.
INTRODUCTORY. 73
That day tlic gonfalous \Ycrc down, tlie silver lamps
uutriinnied, Sad at their oars the rowers sat, silcut the oS'ile-boat
skiiniiied, And through the land there went a M'ail of bitterest
agony, Prom the iron hills of Nubia to the islands of the sea.
There in that very hall where once her laugli had loudest
been, Where but that morning she had worn the wreath of
Beauty's Queen, She lay a lost and lovely thing — the wreath was on
her Ijrow, Alas ! the lotus might not match its chilling paleness
UOW;
And ever as that golden light sank lower in the sky, ller breath came fainter, and the beam seemed fading in her eye.
Her coal-black hair was tangled, and the sigh of part- ing day
Stirred tremblingly its silkv folds as on her breast thev lay;
IIow heavily her rounded arm lay buried by her side !
How droopiiigly her lashes seemed those star-bright eyes to hide !
And once tliere ])layed upon her lips a suiile like sum- mer air,
As though T).\-ith came with gentle face, and she mocked her idle fear.
74 POEMS OF PLACES.
Low o'er the dying maiden's form the king and father bows,
Stern anguish holds the plaee of pride upon the mon- arch's brows.
" My daughter, in the world thou Icav'st so dark with- out thy smile,
Hast thou one care a father's love, a king's word, may beguile, —
Hast thou one last bright wish, 'tis thine, by Isis' throne on high.
If Egypt's blood can win it thee, or Egypt's treasure buy."
How anxiously he waits her words ; upon the painted
wall In long gold lines the dying lights between the columns
fall; It lends her sinking limbs a glow, her pallid cheek a
blush, And on her lifted lashes throws a fitful, lingering flush, And on her parting lips it plays : 0, how they crowd
to hear The words that will be iron chains to bind them to her
prayer.
" Father, dear father, it is hard to die so very young. Summer was coming, and I thought to see the flowers
sprung. Must it be always dark hke this? I cannot see thy
face — . I am dying, hold me, father, in thy kind and close
embrace ;
INTRODUCTORY. 75
0, let them sometimes bear me "uliere tlie merry sun- beams lie,
I know tliou wilt, farewell, farewell ! 't is easier now to die ! "
Small need of bearded leeches there ; not all Arabia's store
Of precious balm could purchase her one ray of sun- light more ;
Was it strange that tears were glistening where tears should never be,
"When Death had smitten down to dust the beautiful and free ?
Was it strange that warriors should raise a woman's earnest cry
Tor help and hope to Heaven's throne, when such as she must die?
And ever when the shining sun has brought the summer round,
And the Nile rises fast and full along the thirsty ground,
They bear her from her silent home to where the gay sunlight
May linger on the hollow eyes that once were starry bright.
And strew sweet flowers upon her breast, while gray- haired matrons tell
Of the high Egyptian maiden-queen that loved the light so well.
Edwin Arnold.
76 POEMS OF PLACES.
THE SEVENTH PLAGUE OF EGYPT.
'T^ WAS morn, — tlie rising splendor rolled
-L On marble towers and roofs of gold : Hall, court, and gallery below, Were crowded with a living flow: Egyptian, Arab, Nubian there, The "bearers of the bow and spear. The hoary priest, the Chaldee sage, The slave, the gemmed and glittering page, - Helm, turban, and tiara shone, A dazzling ring, round Pharaoh's throue.
There came a man, — the human tide Shrank backward from his stately stride : His cheek with storm and time was tanned; A shepherd's staff was in his hand. A shudder of instinctive fear Told the dark king what step was near ; On through the host the stranger came. It parted round his form Hke flame.
He stooped not at the footstool stone.
He clasped not sandal, kissed not throne ;
Erect he stood amid the ring,
His only words, — " Be just, O king ! "
On Pharaoh's cheek the blood flushed high,
A fire was in his sullen eye ;
Yet on the chief of Israel
i
INTRODUCTORY. 77
No arrow of liis tliousands fell: All mute and moveless as the grave. Stood chilled the satrap aud the slave.
*' Thou 'rt come," at length the monarch spoke ;
Haughty and high the words outbroke :
" Is Israel weary of its lair,
The forehead peeled, the shoulder bare ?
Take back the answer to your band:
Go, reap the wind ; go, plough the sand ;
Go, vilest of the living vile,
To bnild the never-ending pile,
Till, darkest of the nameless dead,
The vulture on their flesh is fed !
What better asks the howling slave
Than the base life our bounty gave ? "
Shouted in pride the turbaned peers,
Upclashed to heaven the golden spears.
" King ! thou and thine are doomed ! Behold ! "
The prophet spoke, — the thunder rolled !
Along the pathway of the sun
Sailed vapory mountains, wild and dun.
"Yet there is time," the prophet said, —
He raised his staff, the storm was stayed.
" King ! be the Avord of freedom given ;
What art thou, man, to war with Heaven?"
There came no word. The thunder broke
Like a liuge city's final smoke,
Thick, lurid, stifling, mixed with flame.
Through court and hall the vapors came.
78 POEMS OF PLACES.
Loose as the stubble in the field,
Wide flew the men of spear and shield;
Scattered like foam along the wave,
'Flew the proud pageant, prince and slave;
Or, in the cliains of terror bound,
Lay, corpse-like, on the smouldering ground.
"Speak, King! the wrath is but begun,—
Still dumb? — Then, Heaven, thy will be done!
Echoed from eart,h a hollow roar.
Like ocean on the midnight shore ;
A sheet of lightning o'er them wheeled,
The solid ground beneath them reeled;
In dust sank roof and battlement;
Like webs the giant walls were rent;
Red, broad, before his startled gaze.
The monarch saw his Egypt blaze.
Still swelled the plague, — the flame grew pale.
Burst from the clouds the charge of hail;
With arrowy keenness, iron weight,
Down poured the ministers of fate ;
Till man and cattle, crushed, congealed,
Covered with death the boundless field.
Still swelled the plague, — uprose the blast. The avenger, fit to be the last; On ocean, river, forest, vale, Thundered at once the mighty gale. Before the whirlwind flew the tree. Beneath the whirlwind roared the sea ; A thousand ships were on the wave, —
i
INTRODUCTORY. 7i
Where are they ? ask tliat foaming grave ! Down go the hope, tlie pride of years; Down go the myriad mariners ; The riches of Earth's richest zone, Gone ! hke a flash of hglituing, gone !
And, lo ! that first fierce triumph o'er. Swells ocean on the shrinking shore ; Still onward, onward, dark and wide. Engulfs the land the furious tide. Then bowed thy spirit, stubborn king, Thou serpent, reft of fang and sting: Humbled before the prophet's knee, He groaned, "Be injured Israel free!"
To heaven the sage upraised his wand : Back rolled the deluge from the land; Back to its caverns sank the gale ; Fled from the noon the vapors pale ; Broad burned again the joyous sun ; — The hour of wrath and death was done.
George Croft/.
AN EGYPTIAX TOMB.
POMP of Egypt's elder day, Shade of the mighty passed away, \Miose giant works still frown sublime Mid the twilight shades of time ; Eanes, of sculpture vast and rude, That strew the sandy solitude,
80 POEMS OF PLACES.
Lo ! before our startled eyes, As at a wizard's wand, ye rise. Glimmering larger through the gloom! While on the secrets of the tomb. Rapt in other times, we gaze, The Mother Queen of ancient days, Her mystic symbol in her hand. Great Isis, seems herself to stand.
From mazy vaults, high-arched and dim.
Hark ! heard ye not Osiris' hymn ?
And saw ye not in order dread !
The long procession of the dead? I
Forms that the night of years concealed, !
As by a flash, are here revealed;
Chiefs who sang the victor song; j
Sceptred kings, — a shadowy throng, —
Prom slumber of three thousand years
Each, as in light and life, appears.
Stern as of yore ! Yes, vision vast.
Three thousand years have silent passed.
Suns of empire risen and set,
Whose story Time can ne'er forget.
Time, in the morning of her pride
Immense, along the Nile's green side.
The City of the Sun appeared.
And her gigantic image reared.
As Memnon, like a trembling string When the sun, with rising ray, -Streaked the lonely desert gray.
A
INTRODUCTORY. 81
Sent forth its magic murmuring,
That just was heard, — then died away;
So passed, 0 Thcl)es ! tliy morning pride !
Thy glory was the sound that died!
Dark city of the desohite.
Once thou wert rich, and proud, and great !
Tliis busy-peopled isle was then
A waste, or roamed by savage men
Whose gay descendants now appear -*
To mark thy wreck of glory here.
Phantom of that city old.
Whose mystic spoils I now behold,
A kingdom's sepulchre, O, say,
Shall Albion's own illustrious day
Thus darkly close ! Her power, her fame,
Thus pass away, a shade, a name !
The Mausoleum murmured as I six)ke ;
A spectre seemed to rise, like towering smoke ;
It answered not, but pointed as it fled
To the black carcass of the sightless dead.
Once more I heard the sounds of earthly strife.
And the streets ringing to the stir of life.
iniliam Lisle Bojcles.
TO AN EGYniAN MUMMY. ND thou hast walked about — how strange a story ! —
In Thebes's streets, three thousand years ago! When the ^lemnonium was in all its glory. And time had not begun to overthrow
82 POEMS OF PLACES.
Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, Of wliicli the very ruuis are tremendous 1
Speak ! for thou long enough hast acted dummy ;
Thou hast a tongue, — come, let us hear its tune ! Thou 'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, munnny
Revisiting the glimpses of the moon, — Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, But wi|Ji thy bones, and flesh, and limbs, and features !
Tell us, — for doubtless thou canst recollect, — To whom should we assign the Sphinx's fame?
Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect
Of either pyramid that bears his name ?
Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer ?
Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer ?
Perhaps thou wert a mason, and forbidden,
By oath, to tell the mysteries of thy trade ;
Then say, what secret melody was hidden
* In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise played ?
Perhaps than wert a priest ; if so, my struggles
Are vain, for priestcraft never owns its juggles!
Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat,
Hath hob-a-nobbed with Pharaoh, glass to glass ;
Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat;
Or doffed thine own, to let Queen Bido pass;
Or held, by Solomon's own invitation,
A torch at the great temple's dedication !
I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled;
INTRODUCTORY. 83
For thou wert dead, and buried, and enibalinrd,
Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled : Antiquity appears to have begun Long after thy primeval race was run.
Thou couldst develop, if that witliered tongue
Might tell us what those sightless orbs have seen,
How the world looked when it was fresh and young, And the great deluge still had left it green-j
Or was it then so old that history's pages
Contained no record of its early ages ?
Still silent ! — Incommunicative elf !
Art sworn to secrecy ? Then keep thy vows ! But, prithee, tell us somethiug of thyself, —
Reveal the secrets of thy prison-house ; Since in the world of spirits thou hast slumbered, What hast thou seen, what strange adventures num- bered ?
Since first thy form was in this box extended,
We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations ;
The Roman Eni])ire has begun and ended.
New worlds liave risen, we have lost old nations.
And countless kings have into dust been humbled.
While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled.
Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head, When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses,
Marched armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread, O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, —
84 POEMS OF PLACES.
And sliook the pyramids with fear and wonder, When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder?
If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed,
The nature of thy private life unfold ! A heart hath throbbed beneath that leathern breast.
And tears adown that dusty cheek have rolled ; Have children climbed those knees, and kissed that face ? W^hat was thy name and station, age and race?
Statue of ficsh ! Immortal of the dead !
Imperishable type of evanescence ! Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed.
And standest undecayed within our presence ! Thou wilt hear nothing till the Judgment morning, When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warn- ing!
Why should this worthless tegument endure.
If its undying guest be lost forever? O, let us keep the soul embalmed and pure
In living virtue, that when both must sever, Although corruption may our frame consume. The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom !
Horace Smith,
THE PYRAMIDS OF EGYPT.
YE marvels of this ancient land. Ye dwellings of the dead, Where crowned brow and sceptred hand Sleep in their dreamless bed.
INTUODUCTORY.
Lone monuments of other days
Who lilt to Heaven your ceaseless gaze,
Speak, for witliin your murky stone
Philosophy may hear An echo of a hallowed tone,
Telling to mortal ear Lessons of wisdom deep and stem, — Lessons which pride is slow to learn; —
Speak how the glory and the power,
The diadems of kings. Are but the visions of an hour,
All unenduring things; And how that Deatli hath made for all A chamber in his silent hall.
We know, we know that all must die !
Where is our knowledge then, — The plotting head, the beaming eye,
Tlie boasts of mortal men ? Li earth's oblivion, dull and deep, We sleep our unawakencd sleep ;
Like forms that float in twilight's shade. And ere the day are gone, —
Wlien from his misty joyless glade Stern ILades glideth on.
Wrapt in his robe of quiet gloom.
To call us to the silent tomb.
86 POEMS OF PLACES.
He will not loose in tliat dread hour The monarch's jewelled brow,
Won by the wealth, the pomp of power. In which he joyeth now :
Poor mortal ! while the sun of spring
Smiles on his warm imagining, —
Unhappy ! — he hath thoughts of pride.
And aspirations vain, And marches with a godlike stride.
Chilling the courtier train With the cold glance of royal ire, More dreaded than the lightning fire.
And what are these ? in cold and cloud
The motley pageant flies ! Weep for the weakness of the proud.
The follies of the wise ! Ever within the golden ring That rounds the temples of a king.
Death, Lord of all beneath the sky, Holdeth his stubborn court;
And, as he gives to royalty Its momentary sport.
Points his wan finger all the while
With shaking head and bitter smile:
And at the last the phantom thin Leaps up within the hold ;
And, with a little hidden pin, Bores through his wall of gold.
INTRODUCTORY. 87
Wliat are vtg in our fate and fall? Night, night, the jailer of us all,
Hath bound in lier funereal chain
The beautiful, the brave, The ignorant of human pain.
The lord of land and wave, The shepherd of his people's rest. The ever and the wholly blest.
And straight among the courtier bands
The hired lamentings rise ; And there is striking of fair hands.
And weeping of bright eyes ; And the long locks of women fall In sorrow round that gorgeous hall.
And last, upon some solemn day.
The tomb of all his race Hath opened for his shivering clay
The dismal dwelling-place, The dim abyss of sculptured stones, The prison-house of royal bones.
These are the honors of the dead !
But, as I wander by, And gaze upon yon marble bed
With lost and loitering eye, Till back upon my awestruck soul A thousand ages seem to roll,
I muse on thee, whom this recess Hides in its pathless gloom.
88 POEMS OF PLACES.
Thy glory and tliy nothingness, Thine empire and thy tomb ; And call thee, Psammis, bacic to light, Back from the veil of death and night.
Come from thy darkness ! all too long Thou lingerest in the grave;
Thou, the destroyer of the strong, The powerful to save:
Come from thy darkness; set again
Thy saffron sandal on the plain;
And bid thy golden sceptre gleam
Its Avontcd radiance yet; And let thy bright tiara beam
Around thy locks of jet ; And play the king upon this spot As when — alas 1 thou listeuest not !
Thy might liath fleeted from the day ;
Thy very name is hid; Yet pride hath heaped upon thy clay
A ponderous Pyramid ; And thou art kingly still, and blest In a right royal place of rest.
O, what is this to thee or thine?
Some traveller idly stalks Around the tomb of all thy line.
And tramples as he walks With rebel foot and reckless eye. The dust which once was majesty.
INTRODUCTORY. S9
Thy portrait and tliy eulogy
Traced by some artist hand, And all that now remains of thee.
Dragged to a distant land, Must be a thing for girls to know, A jest, a marvel, and a show !
Wintlirop Mac/cworth Vraed.
FESTAL DIRGE.
" At the entertainments of the ricli, just as the company is about to rise from tlie repast, a small coftin is carried round, containing a perfect rep- resentation of a drad body ; it is in size sometimes of one, but never more tlian two cubits, and as it is shown to the guests in rotation tlie bearer exclaims, " Cast your eyes on this figure ; alter deatli you yourself will resemble it; driuk, then, and be happy." — Ukkouotls, Euttipe, xxviii.
THE song of the house of King Antuf, Deceased, which is written in front of The ])layer on tlie harp.
All hail to tlie good Prince, the worthy good man. The body is fated to pass away, The atoms remain, ever since The time oi the ancestors. The gods who were bcforetime Rest in their tombs. The mummies of the saints Likewise are enwrapped in their tombs. Tliey who build iiouses. And they who have no houses, see ! What becomes of them.
90 POEMS OF PLACES.
I have heard the words
Of Imhotep and Hartatef.
It is said in tlieir sayings,
" After all, what is prosperity ?
Their fenced walls are dilapidated.
Their houses are as that which has never existed.
No man comes from thence
Who tells of their sayings,
Who tells of their affairs,
Who encourages our hearts.
Ye go to the place whence they return not.
Strengthen thy heart to forget
How thou hast enjoyed thyself,
Fulfil thy desire wliilst thou livest.
Put oils upon thy head.
Clothe thyself with fine linen
Adorned with precious metals.
With the gifts of God
Multiply thy good things.
Yield to thy desire,
Fulfil thy desire with thy good things.
Whilst thou art upon earth.
According to the dictation of thy heart.
The day will come to thee.
When one hears not the voice,
When the one who is at rest .
Hears not their voices.
Lamentations deliver not
Him who is in the tomb.
Feast in tranquillity,
Seeing that there is no one
INTKODUCTORY. ifl
Wlio carries away liis goods wit]i liim. Yea, beliold, none who goes thither Comes back again.
From the Ef/i/ptian, Tr, C. W. Goodwin.
ISIS AND OSIRIS.
WELL therefore did the antique world invent That Justice was a god of sovcraine grace, And altars unto him and tcmj)lcs lent, And heavenly honours in the highest place; Calling him great Osyris, of the race Of th' old iEgyi)tian kings that whylonie were ; "With fayned colours shading a true case ; For that Osyris, Avhilest he lived here, The iustest man ahvc and truest did apjieare.
His wife was Isis ; whom they likewise made A goddessc of great powre and sovcrainty. And in her person cunningly did shade That part of Justice which is Equity, Whereof I have to treat here presently : Unto whose Temple whenas Britomart Arrived, slice with great humility Did enter in, nc would that night depart; But Talus mote not be admitted to her part.
There she received was in goodly wize Of many priests, which duely did attend Uppon the rites and daily sacrilize.
92f ^ POEMS OF PLACES.
All clad ill linnen robes with silver liemd; And on their hctads with long locks comely kemd They wore rich mitres shaped hke the moone, To shew that Isis doth the moone portend; Like as Osyris signifies the sunne : Eor that they both hke race in equall instice runne.
The Championesse them greeting, as she could, Was thence by them into the Temple led; Wliose goodly building when she did behould Borne uppou stately pillours, all dispred With shining gold, and arched over hed, She wondred at the work mans passing skill, Whose like before she never saw nor red; And thereuppon long wliile stood gazing still. But thought that she thereon could never gaze her fill.
Thenceforth unto the Idoll they her brought; The which was framed all of silver fine, So well as could with cunning hand be wrought. And clothed all in garments made of line, Hemd all about with fringe of silver twine: Uppon her head she wore a crowne of gold; To shew that she had powre in things divine ; And at her feete a crocodile M^as rold, That with her Avreathed taile her middle did enfold.
One foote was set uppon the crocodile, And on the ground the other fast did stand; So meaning to siippresse both forged guile And open force : and in her other hand
INTRODUCTORY. 93
She stretched forth a long white sclcndcr Avand. Such was the goddesse: whom wlieii Britomart Had loug beheld, herselfe uppon the hind She did prostrate, and with right humble hart Unto herselte her silent prayers did impart.
Edmund Sjienser.
A MEDITATION.
POUTENTOUS Egypt! I in thee behold And studiously examine human-kind. Learning to know me in mine origin. In the primeval and the social state. A cultivator first, man next obeyed Wise Nature's voice internal, equal men Uniting, and to empire raising law, The expression of the universal will. That gives to virtue recompense, to crime Due punishment, and to the general good Bids private interest be sacriticed. In thee the exalted temple of the arts Was founded, high in thee they rose, in thee Long ages saw their proudest excellence. The Persian worshipper of sun or lire From thee derived his creed. The arts from thee Followed Sesostris' arms to the utmost plains Of the scorched Orient, in caution wliere Lurks the Cliinese, Tliou wondrous Egypt ! through Vast Hindostan thy worship and tliy laws I trace. In thee to the inquirer's gaze Nature uncovered first the ample breast
94 POEMS OF PLACES.
Of science, tliat contemplates, measuring, Heaven's vault, and tracks the bright stars' circling course.
* * * '
From out tlie bosom of thine opulence And glory vast imagination spreads Her wings. In thine immortal works I find Proofs how sublime that human spirit is. Which the dull atheist, depreciatnig. Calls but an instinct of more perfect kind. More active, than the never-varying brute's. More is my being, more. Hashes in me A ray reflected from tlie eternal light. All the philosophy my verses breathe. The imagination in their cadences. Result not from unconscious mechanism. * * *
Thebes is in ruins, Memphis is but dust. O'er poHshed Egypt savage Egypt lies. Midst deserts does the persevering hand Of skilful antiquary disinter Columns of splintered porphyry, remains Of ancient porticos ; each single one Of greater worth, O thou immortal Rome, Than all thou from the desolating Goth, And those worse Vandals of the Seine, hast saved ! Buried beneath light grains of arid sand. The golden palaces, the aspiring towers. Of Moeris, Amasis, Sesostris, lie; And the immortal pyramids contend In durability against the world:
INTRODUCTORY. 95
Planted midst centuries' shade, Time 'gainst their tops Scarce grazes his ne'er-resting iron "vving.
In Egypt to perfection did the arts Attain ; in Egypt they declined, they died : Of all that's mortal sucli the unfaihiig lot; Only the light of science 'gainst Death's law Eternally endures. The basis firm Of the fair temple of Geometry Was in portentous Egypt laid. The doors Of vasty Nature by Geometry Are opened; to her fortress she conducts The sage. With her, beneath the fervid sun, The globe I measure ; only by her aid Couldst thou, learned Kepler, the eternal laws Of the fixed stars discover; and with her Grasps the philosopher the ellipse immense. Eccentric, of the sad, and erst unknown. Far-wandering comet. Justly if I claim The name geometrician, certainly Matter inert is not wliat in me thinks.
Jose A(jostl)iho de Macedo. Tr. Anon.
I
THE DESTROYING ANGEL.
"T was the time wlien the still moon Was mounted softly to her noon, And dewy sleep, which from night's secret springs arose,
Gently as Nile the land o'ci-flows ; When, lo, from the high countries of refined day, The golden heaven without allay, —
9G POEMS OF PLACES.
Whose dross in the creation purged away.
Made up the sun's adulterate ray, — Micbael, the warlike prince, does downward fly.
Swift as the journeys of the sight,
Swift as the race of liglit. And witli liis winged will cuts through the yielding sky. He passed through many a star, and, as he passed. Shone (like a star in them) more brightly there
Than they did in their sphere. On a tall pyramid's pointed head he stopped at last, And a mild look of sacred pity cast Down on the sinful land where he was sent
To inflict the tardy punishment.
"Ah, yet," said he, "yet, stubborn king, repent.
While thus unarmed I stand. Ere the keen sword of God fill my commanded hand. Suffer but yet thyself and thine to live;
Who would, alas, believe.
That it for man," said he,
" So hard to be forgiven should be.
And yet for God so easy to forgive."
Abraham Cowley.
THE SONS OF GUSH.
•
Still fearful of the flood, Tliey on the marble range and cloudy heights Of that vast mountain barrier, — which uprises High o'er the Red Sea coast, and stretches on With tlie sea-line of Afric's southern bounds To Sofala, — delved hi the granite mass
INTRODUCTORY. 97
Their dark abode, spreading from rock to rock Their subtcrraiieau cities, whilst they heard, Secure, the rains of vexed Orion rush. Emboldened they descend, and now their fanes On Egypt's champaign darken, whilst the noise Of caravans is heard, and pyramids In the pale distance gleam. Imperial Thebes Starts, like a giant, from the dust ; as when Some dread enchanter waves his wand, and towers And palaces far in the sandy wilds Spring up : and still, her sphinxes, huge and high. Her nuirble Avrecks colossal, seem to speak The work of some great arm invisible. Surpassing human strength; while toiling Time, That sways his desolating scythe so vast, And weary Havoc murmuring at his side. Smite them in vain.
William Lisle Bowles,
GEBIR.
GEBTK, at Egypt's youthful queen's approach Laid by his orbed shield ; his vizor-lielm. His buckler, and his corset he laid by, And bade that none attend him : at his side Two faithful dogs that urge the silent course, Shaggy, deep-chested, croucht ; the crocodile, Crying, oft made them raise their flaccid ears And push their heads within tlieir master's hand. There was a brightening ])aleiu'ss in his face. Such as Diana rising o'er the rocks
98 POEMS OF PLACES.
Showered on the lonely Latmian ; on his brow
Sorrow there was, yet naught was there severe.
But when tlie royal damsel first he saw,
Taint, hanging on her handmaid, and her knees
Tottering, as from the motion of the car,
His eyes lookt earnest on her, and those eyes
Showed, if they had not, that they might have, loved,
Por there was pity in them at that hour.
With gentle speech, and more with gentle looks.
He soothed her ; but lest Pity go beyond
And crost Ambition lose her lofty aim,
Bending, he kist her garment, and retired.
He went, nor slumbered in the sultry noon.
When viands, couches, generous wines, persuade.
And slumber most refreslies ; nor at night.
When heavy dews are laden with disease ;
And blindness waits not tliere for lingering age.
Ere morning dawned behind him, he arrived
At those rich meadows where young Tamar fed
The royal flocks intrusted to his care.
"Now," said he to himself, "will I repose
At least this burtlien on a brother's breast."
His brother stood before him : he, amazed,
Beared suddenly his head, and thus began ;
" Is it tliou, brother ! Tamar, is it thou !
Why, standing on the valley's utmost verge,
Lookest thou on that dull and dreary shore
Where beyond sight Nile blackens all the sand?
And why that sadness? When I past our sheep
The dew-drops were not shaken off the bar,
Therefor if one be wanting, 'tis untold."
INTRODUCTOllY. 99
"Yes, one is "wantini?, nor is tint untold," S:iicl 'Jaiiiar; "and tliis dull and dreary sliore Is ncillier dull nor dreary at all hours." Whereon the tear stole silent down his check, Silent, but not by Gcbir unobserved : Wondering lie gazed awhile, and pityiii-? spake. "Let me approach thee; docs the nioruiug light Scatter this wau suH'usion o'er thy brow, This faint blue lustre under both thine eyes?"
"O brother, is this pity or reproach?" Cried Tamar ; " cruel if it be reproach, If j)ity, 0 how vain ! " " Whate'er it be That grieves thee, I will pity, thou but speak, And I can tell thee, Taniar, pang for pang."
"Gebir! then more than brothers arc we now! Everything (take my hand) will I confess, I neither feed the flock nor watch the fold; IIow can I, h)st in love? But, Gebir, why That anger which has risen to your cheek ? Can other men ? could you ? what, no rejjly ! And still more anger, and still worse concealed! Are these your pnnniscs ? your pity this?"
"Taniar, I well may pity what 1 feel — Mark me aright — I feel for thee — proceed — Ilelate me all." " Then will I all relate," Said the young shepherd, gladdened from his heart. " 'T was evening, though not sunset, and the tiile Level with these green meadows, seemed yet higher: 'Twas pleasant; ami 1 loosenrd from my lU'ck The pipe yon gave me, and began to ]>lay. O that I ne'er had learnt the tuneful art !
100 POEMS OF PLACES.
It always brings us euemies or love. Well, I was playing, when above the waves Some swimmer's head methought I saw ascend; I, sitting near, surveyed it, with my pipe Awkwardly held before my lips half-closed. Gebir ! it was a nymph ! a nymph divine ! I cannot wait describing how she came, How I was sitting, how she first assumed The sailor; of what happened there remains Enough to say, and too much to forget. The sweet deceiver stept upon this bank Before I was aware; for with surprise Moments fly rapid as with love itself. Stooping to tune afresh the hoarsened reed, I heard a rustling, and where that arose My glance first lighted on her nimble feet. Her feet resembled those long shells explored By him who to befriend his steed's dim sight Would blow the pungent powder in the eye. Her eyes too ! O immortal Gods ! her eyes Resembled — what could they resemble ? w^hat Ever resemble those ? Even her attire Was not of wonted woof nor vulgar art; Her mantle showed the yellow samphire-pod. Her girdle the dove-colored wave serene. * Shepherd,' said she, ' and will you wrestle now, And with the sailor's hardier race engage?' I was rejoiced to hear it, and contrived How to keep up contention: could I fail By presshig not too strongly, yet to press? 'Whether a shepherd, as indeed you seem,
INTRODUCTORY. 101
Or ^^hotlicr of the hardier race you boast,
I am not daunted; no; I will engage.'
' But first,' said she, * what wager will you lay ? '
'A sheep,' I answered: 'add whate'er you will.*
*I cannot,' she replied, 'make that return:
Our hided vessels in their pitchy round
Seldom, unless from rapine, hold a sheep.
But I iiavc sinuous shells of pearly hue
"VMthin, and they that lustre have imbibed
In the Sun's palace-porch, where when unyoked
His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave :
Shake one and it awakens, then apply
Its polisht lips to your attentive ear.
And it remembers its august abodes,
And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.
And I have others given me by the Nymphs,
Of sweeter sound than any pipe you have ;
But we, by Neptune ! for no i)ipe contend.
This time a sheep I win, a pipe the next.'
Now came she forward, eager to engage.
But first her dress, her bosom then surveyed.
And heaved it, doubting if she could deceive.
Her bosom seemed, enclosed in haze like heaven,
To baffle touch, and rose forth undefined :
Above her knee she drew the robe succinct,
Above her breast, and just below her arms.
' This will preserve my breath when tightly bound,
If struggle and equal strength sliould so constrain.'
Thus, pulling hard to fasten it, she spake,
And, rusliing at me, closed : I thrilled throughout
And seemed to lessen and shrink up Mith cold.
103 POEMS OF PLACES.
Af^ain witli A'ioleiit impulse guslit my blood.
And healing naught external, thus absorbed,
I heard it, rushing through each turbid vein.
Shake my unsteady, swimming sight in air.
Yet with unyielding though uncertain arms
I clung around her neck ; the vest beneath
Rustled against our slippery limbs entwined ;
Often mine springing with eluded force
Started aside and trembled till replaced :
And when I most succeeded, as I thought.
My bosom and my throat felt so comprest
That life was almost quivering on my lips.
Yet nothing was there painful : these are signs
Of secret arts and not of human might ;
What arts I cannot tell ; I only know
My eyes grew dizzy and my strength decayed ;
I was indeed o'ercome — with what regret,
And more, with what confusion, w^ien I reacht
The fold, and yielding up the sheep, she cried,
* This pays a shepherd to a conquering maid.'
She smiled, and more of pleasure than disdain
Was in her dimpled chin and liberal lip,
And eyes that languisht, lengthening, just like love.
She went away ; I on the wicker gate
Leaned, and could follow with my eyes alone.
The sheep she carried easy as a cloak ;
But when I heard its bleating, as I did.
And saw, she hastening on, its hinder feet
Struggle, and from her snowy shoulder slip.
One shoulder its poor efforts had unveiled,
Then all my passions mingling fell in tears;
INTRODUCTORY. 103
Restless tlieii ran I to \\\o liij^licst ground To \va1ch her; slic Mas gone; gone down tlic tide; And the loni^ moonl)eani on tlic hard wet sand Lay like a jasper column half uprearcd."
Walter Savaye Landor.
^IIE WITCH OF ATLAS.
BUT her choiee sport was, in the hours of sleep, To glide adown old Nilus, when lie threads Egypt and Ethiopia, from the steep
Of ntmost Axumc, until he spreads. Like a calm flock of silver-fleeced sheep,
His waters on the plain ; and crested heads Of cities and proud temples gleam amid. And many a vapor-belted pyramid.
By Maoris and the ^lareotid lakes.
Strewn with faint blooms like bridal-chamber floors Where naked boys bridling tiime water-snakes,
Or charioteering ghastly alligators. Had left on the sweet waters mighty wakes
Of those huge forms; — within the brazen doors Of the great Labyrinth slei)t both boy and beast, Tired with the pomp of their Osirian feast.
And where within the surface of the river Tiie shadows of the massy temples lie,
And never are erased, but trend)le ever
Like things which every cloud can doom to die,
104 POEMS OF PLACES.
Through lotus-paven canals, and wheresoever
The works of man pierced tliat serenest sky With tombs, and towers, and fanes, 't was her delight To wander in the shadow of the night.
J^ercy Bysshe Shelley.
TO THE ALABASTER SARCOPlfAGUS
DEPOSITED IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM.
THOU alabaster relic! while I hold My hand upon thy sculptured margin thrown, Let me recall the scenes thou couldst unfold,
Might'st thou relate the changes thou hast known Tor thou wert primitive in thy formation. Launched from the Almighty's hand at the creation.
Yes ! thou wert present when the stars and skies And worlds unnumbered rolled into their places ;
When God from chaos bade the spheres arise. And fixed the blazing sun upon its basis,
And with his finger on the bounds of space
Marked out each planet's everlasting race.
How many thousand ages from thy birth
Thou slept'st in darkness it were vain to ask.
Till Egypt's sons upheaved thee from the earth. And year by year pursued their patient task.
Till thou wert carved and decorated thus.
Worthy to be a king's sarcophagus !
INTRODUCTORY. 105
What time Elijah to tlic skies ascended.
Or David reigned in holy Palestine, Some ancient Tiieban monarch was extended
Beneatii the lid of this emblazoned shrine, And to that subterraneous palace borne, Which toihng ages in tiic rock had \vorn.
Thebes, from her hundred portals, filled the plain. To see tlie car on which thou wcrt upheld;
"What funeral pomps extended in thy trahi,
What banners waved, what mighty music swelled,
As armies, priests, and crowds bewailed in chorus,
Their king, their god, their Serapis, their Orus !
Thus to thy second quarry did ihey trust Thee, and the lord of all the nations round.
Grim king of silence ! monarch of the dust !
Embalmed, anointed, jewelled, sceptred, crowned,
Here did he lie in state, cold, stift", and stark,
A leathern Pharaoh grinning in the dark.
Thus ages rolled ; but their dissolving breath Could only blacken that imprisoned thing.
Which wore a ghastly royalty in death, As if it struggled still to be a king;
And eacli dissolving century, like the last,
Just dropped its dust upon thy lid, and jiassed.
The Persian conqueror o'er Egy])t ])oured His devastating host, — a motley crew;
The steel-clad horseman, the barbarian horde, Music and men of every sound and hue.
106 POEMS OF PLACES.
Priests, archers, eunuchs, concubines, and brutes. Gongs, trumpets, cymbals, dulcimers, and lutes.
Then did the fierce Cambyses tear away
The ponderous rock that sealed the sacred tomb;
Then did the slowly penetrating ray
Redeem thee from long centuries of gloom.
And lowered torches flashed against thy side.
As Asia's king thy blazoned trophies eyed.
Plucked from his grave, with sacrilegious taunt. The features of the royal corse they scanned;
Dashing the diadem from his temple gaunt. They tore the sceptre from his graspless hand ;
And on those fields, where once his will was law,
Left him for winds to waste and beasts to gnaw.
Some x>ious Thebans, when the storm was past, Upclosed the sepulchre with cunning skill.
And nature, aiding their devotion, cast Over its entrance a concealing rill ;
Then tliy third darkness came, and thou didst sleep
Twenty-three centuries in silence deep.
But he from whom nor pyramids nor sphinx Can hide its secrecies, Belzoni, came;
Prom the tomb's mouth unlinked the granite links. Gave thee again to liglit and life and fame.
And brought thee from the sands and deserts forth,
To charm the pallid children of the north !
Thou art in London, which, when thou wert new, Was what Thebes is, a wilderness and waste.
INTRODUCTORY. 107
'V\Ticre savaf^c beast more savaprc men pursue ;
A scene by nature cursed, by man disgraced. Now, 't is the world's metropolis ! The high Queen of arms, learning, arts, and luxury I
Here, where I liold my hand, 't is strange to think What other hands, perclianee, preceded mine ;
Others have also stood beside thy brink, And vainly conned the moralizing line !
Kings, sages, chiefs, that touched this stone, like me,
"Where arc ye now ? AViicre all must shortly be.
All is mutation ; he within this stone
Was once the greatest monarch of the hour.
His bones are dust, his very name unknown ! Go, learn from him the vanity of power;
Seek not the frame's corruption to control,
But build a lasting mansion for thy soul.
Horace Smilh.
THE PArVRUS.
ANCIENT wisdom may boast of the spice and the weed, Which embalmed the cold forms of its heroes and sages ; But tlieir fame lives alone on tlie leaf of the reed, Which has grown through the clefts in the ruins of
ages.
Robert Treat raine.
>
^
108 POEMS OF PLACES.
MACARIUS THE MONK.
IN the old clays, while yet the church was young. And men beheved that praise of God was suug In curbing self as well as singing psalms, There lived a monk, Macarius by name, A holy man, to whom the faithful came With hungry hearts to hear the wondrous Word. In sight of gushing springs and sheltering palms. He lived upon the desert ; from the marsh He drank the brackish water, and his food Was dates and roots, — and all his rule was harsh, For pampered flesh in those days warred with good.
Prom those who came in scores a few there were
Who feared the devil more than fast and prayer.
And these remained and took the hermit's vow.
A dozen saints there grew to be ; and now
Macarius, happy, lived in larger care.
He taught his brethren all the lore he knew.
And as they learned, his pious rigors grew.
His whole intent was on the spirit's goal :
He taught them silence, — words disturb the soul ;
He warned of joys, and bade them pray for sorrow.
And be prepared to-day for death to-morrow ;
To know that human life alone was given
To prove the souls of those who merit heaven ;
He bade the twelve in all things be as brothers.
And die to self, to live and work for others.
INTRODUCTORY. 109
"For so," lie said, "wc save our love and labors, Aud each one gives liis own and takes his neighbor's."
Thus long he taught, and wliilc they silent heard. He prayed for fruitful soil to hold the word.
One day, beside the marsh they labored long, — For worldly work makes sweeter sacred song, — And when the cruel sun made hot the sand, And Afric's gnats the sweltering face and hand Tormenting stung, a passing traveller stood And watched the workers by the reeking flood. Macarius, nigh, with heat and toil was faint; The traveller saw, and to the suffering saint A bunch of luscious grapes in pity threw. Most sweet aud fresh and fair they were to view, A generous cluster, bursting-rich with wine. Macarius longed to taste. " The fruit is mine," He said, and sighed ; " but I, who daily teach. Feel now the bond to practise as I preach." He gave the cluster to the nearest one, And with his heavy toil went patient on.
As one athirst will greet a flowing brim, The tempting fruit made moist the mouth of him Who took the gift ; but in the ycarnhig eye Rose brighter light : to one whose lip was dry He gave the grapes, and bent him to his spiide. And he who took, unknown to any other, The sweet refreshment handed to a brother. And so, from each to each, till rouud was made
110 POEMS OF PLACES.
The circuit wholly, — when the grapes at last, Untouched and tempting, to Macarius passed.
" Now God be thanked ! " he cried, and ceased to toil; "The seed Avas good, but better was the soil. My brothers, join Avith me to bless the day." But, ere they knelt, lie threw the grapes away.
John Boyle O'Reilly.
THE PYRAMIDS.
AFTER the fantasies of many a night, After the deep desires of many a day, Rejoicing as an ancient Eremite Upon the desert's edge at last I lay: Before me rose, in wonderful array, Those works where man has rivalled Nature most, Those Pyramids, that fear no more decay Than waves inflict upon the rockiest coast, Or winds on mountain-steeps, and like endurance boast.
Eragments the deluge of old Time has left Behind it in its subsidence, — long walls Of cities of their very names bereft, — Lone columns, remnants of majestic halls, — Rich-traceried chambers, where the niglit-dew falls, — All have I seen with feelings due, I trow, Yet not with such as these memorials Of the great unremembered, that can show The mass and shape they wore four thousand years
ago.
Lord Hoitghion.
INTRODUCTOKY. Ill
PELTERS OF PYRAMIDS.
A SHOAL of idlers, from a mercliant craft Ancliored off Alexandria, T^Tut ashore, And mounting asses in their headlong glee, Round Pompey's Pillar rode with hoots and taunts, — As men oft say, " What art thou more than Ave ? " Next in a boat they floated up the Nile, Singing and drinking, swearing senseless oaths. Shouting, and laughing most derisively At all majestic scenes. A bank they reached. And, clambering up, played gambols among tombs; And in portentous ruins (through whose dejiths — The mighty twilight of departed gods — Both sun and moon glanced furtive, as in awe) They hid, aud whooped, and spat on sacred things.
At length, beneath the blazing sun they lounged Near a great Pyramid. Awhile they stood With stupid stare, until resentment grew, In the recoil of meanness from the vast; And, gathering stones, they, with coarse oaths and gibes, (As they would say, "What art thou more than wc ? ") Pelted the Pyramid ! ]?ut soon these men, Hot and exhausted, sat them down to drink, — Wrangled, smoked, spat, and laughed, and drowsily Cursed the bald Pyramid, and fell asleep.
Night came: — a little sand went drifting by— And morn again was in the soft blue heavens.
112 POEMS or PLACES.
The broad slopes of tlie sliiuing Pyramid Looked down in their austere simplicity Upon the glistening silence of the sands Whereon no trace of mortal dust was seen.
Richard Ilengist Home.
THE SPHINX AND THE PYRAMIDS.
rpiIE shadow of the Pyramids -L Pled round before the sun : By day it fled. It onward sped; And when its daily task was done. The moon arose, and round the plain The weary shadow fled again.
The Sphinx looked east.
The Sphinx looked west. And north and south her shadow feU;
How many times she sought for rest And found it not, no tongue may teU.
But much it vexed the heart of greedy Time
That neither rain nor snow, nor frost nor hail, Troubles the calm of the Egyptian clime ; For these for him, like heavy iron flail, And wedge and saw, and biting tooth and file.
Against the palaces of kings prevail. And crumble down the loftiest pile. And eat the ancient hills away, And make the very mountains know decay.
INTRODUCTORY. 113
Aiid sorclj lie would grudge, and mucli would carp,
That he could never keep liis polished blade, His mowing sickle keen and sharp,
Tor all the din and all the dust he made. He cursed the mummies that they would not rot. He cursed the paintings that they faded not, And swore to terrible Memnon from his seat; But, foiled awhile, to hide his great defeat. With his wide wings he blew the Lybian sand, And hid from mortal eyes the glories of the land.
George Wilson.
THE SPHINX.
THEY glare, — those stony eyes ! That in the fierce sun-rays Showered from these burning skies. Through untold centuries Have kept their sleepless and unwinking gaze.
Since wliat unnumbered year
Hast thou kept watch and ward, And o'er the buried Land of Fear
So grindy licld thy guard? No faithless slumber snatching.
Still couched in silence brave, Like some fierce hound long watciiing
Above her master's grave.
No fabled shape art thou ! On that thought-freighted brow And in those smooth weird lineaments we find.
114 POEMS OF PLACES.
Though traced all darkly, even uow
The relics of a mind : And gather dimly thence A vague, half-human sense, — The strange and sad intelligence
That sorrow leaves behind.
Dost thou in anguish thus
Still brood i«o'er CEdipus ? And weave enigmas to mislead anew.
And stultify the blind
Dull heads of human kind, And inly make thy moan That, mid the hated crew,
Whom thou so long couldst vex,
Bewilder, and perplex. Thou yet couldst find a subtler than thine own?
Even now, methinks that those
Dark, heavy lips, which close
In such a stern repose. Seem burdened with some thought unsaid, And hoard within their portals dread
Some fearfid secret there, Which to the listening earth She may not whisper forth.
Not even to the air !
Of awful wonders hid In yon dread Pyramid,
The home of magic fears ; Of chambers vast and lonely.
INTRODUCTORY. 115
Watched by the Geiiii only, AVlio tend their masters' loug-forgottcn biers, And treasures that have shone On cavern-walls alone,
For thousand, thousand years.
Those sullen orbs wouldst thou eclipse, And ope those massy tonib-hke lips, — Many a riddle thou couldst solve,* IVliich all blindly men revolve.
"Would she but tell ! She knows Of the old Pharaohs ; Could count the Ptolemies' long line; Each mighty myth's original hath seen. Apis, Anubis, — ghosts that haunt between
The bestial and divine, — (Such, he that sleeps in PIuLt, — he that stands
In gloom, unworshij)pcd, 'neath liis rock-hewn fane, — And they who, sitting on Memnonian sands, Cast their long shadows o'er the desert i)laiu :) Hath marked Nitocris pass, And Ozyniandias Deep-versed in many a dark Egyptian wile, — Tlie Hebrew boy liath eyed Cold to tlie master's bride ; And that Medusan stare hatli frozen the smile Of all her love and guile, Por whom the Cirsar siglied. And tlie worlddosrr died, —
The darling of the Nile.
llmirtf Hoirard BrotcneU.
116 POEMS OF PLACES.
THE COLOSSI.
GRIM monarclis of the silent plain, Seated in motionless, sublime repose, With faces turned forever toward the dawn.
With eyes that sleep not, lips that ne'er unclose, —
While kingdoms crumble round their thrones. In lonely state they keep their ancient seat;
Time's ocean ebbs and flows, with drifting sands. Like the mysterious river at their feet.
The blithe birds sing their morning song
Where Memnon's voice once rose to greet the sun;
The shadows lengthen nightly toward the west. The stars shine down, the days pass one by one.
Still side by side they sit, with hands
Laid idly on their mighty knees of stone, —
What thoughts pass through their dim brains, silent thus. Companions, yet through centuries alone?
Mourn they their kingdom's vanished might,
Their broken altars, heaped with dust of death?
Or search they the dread future with blank eyes, — Kings, priests, and gods of a forgotten faith?
Rock-hewn, they last while time shall last.
The hills shall leave their seats as soon as they;
But there is One who brooks no rival thrones. And breaks all sceptres at the last great Day.
INTRODUCTORY. 117
Mid ruins of a passing ^volid,
To their slow height tiiosc giant forms shall rise ; T^'itli solemn steps thej move to meet their doom,
i'roni the dread presence passing with veiled eyes,
Beneath the gate of an eternal death
They enter, and are lost among the shades, —
In the dim region of perpetual sighs,
AVhcre earthly glory, earthly greatness, fades.
Florence Smith.
THE COLOSSI.
"HENIGNANT, calm, majestically grave,
-L^ Earth's childhood smiling in their lifted eyes.
While the hoar wisdom which the dead years gave
Upon each placid brow engraven lies —
Two on the plain and four beside the wave
Keep watch and ward above the centuries.
As is the sand which flics, our little lives
Glitter and whirl a moment and are gone;
A day it lives, then to Oblivion drives
The haughtiest cm])ire and tiie loftiest throne :
Swiftly to all the ai)pointed hour arrives,
Men, nations pass, but they remain alone.
Mute in the azure silence of these skies.
Immortal childhood looking from tlunr eyes.
Thomas Gold Appleion.
NUDIA.
A LAND of Dreams and Sleep, — a poppied land ! -^ With skies of endless calm above her head. The drowsy warmth of summer noonday shed
118 POEMS OF PLACES.
Upon her hills, and silence stern and grand Throughout her Desert's temple-buryhig sand. Before her threshold, in their ancient place, With closed lips, and fixed, majestic face. Noteless of Time, her dumb colossi stand. O, pass them not with light, irreverent tread ; Hespect the dream tliat builds her fallen throne. And soothes her to oblivion of her vroes. Hush ! for she does but sleep ; she is not dead : Action and Toil have made the world their own, But she hath built an altar to Repose.
Baijard Taylor,
SNOW IN ABYSSINIA.
BUUCE of Kiiinaird could scarce repress the smile That twitched the bearded ambush of his mouth. When, in his quest of the mysterious Nile,
Amid the perilous wilds of the swart South, An old man told him, with a grave surprise
Which made his childhke wonder almost grand, How, in his youtli, there fell from out the skies
A feathery whiteness over all their land, A strange, soft, spotless sometliing, pure as light,
Tor which their questioned language had no name. That shone and sparkled for a day and night.
Then vanished all as weirdly as it came. Leaving no vestige, gleam, or hue, or scent.
On the round hills or in the purple air, To satisfy their mute bewilderment
That such a presence had indeed been there !
Anonymous.
EGYPT, NUBIA, AND ABYSSINIA.
Alexandria.
AI.EXAXDRIA.
TJEIIE tlie vain youth who made the \rorhl liis prize, J- A That prosperous robber, Alexander, Hes. Wlien pityiu.i^ death, at length, had freed mankind, To saered rest his bones were here consii^ned : His bones, that better had been tossed and hnrled, With just contempt, around the injured world.
Lucan. Tr. N. Roice.
THE DEATH OF CLEOrATRA.
VrOW let us drink; with nimble feet i^ Now let us strike the holy ground;
"With conches deck the temple round For Suliaric banquets meet.
"Which of us, friends, had disinterred His costly wines, what time the Quccu,
120 POEMS OP PLACES.
Puffed up with pride and female spleen, Encircled by a loathsome herd
Unsexed, but foul with barren lust, Marshalled her powers to overwhelm Our Capitol and ancient realm,
And lay Rome's glories in the dust?
But Egypt knows her dream a cheat Begot of Mareotic fumes, When the devouring fire consumes.
Ship after ship, her Actium fleet.
When Caesar, following in her wake. Like hawk or hunter giving chase To timorous dove or hare of Thrace,
Urges his crew to overtake
And load the monster-queen with chains. She homeward steers, resolved to die. Preferring death to slavery
Or exile from her old domains.
Now, in her royal house serene, Upon her breast she dares to clasp The venom of the deadly asp.
Unshrinking, to the last a Queen.
She scorns, the haughty one, to go
In keel Liburnian over sea.
No golden-fettered captive she To grace the triumph of her foe.
Horace. Tr. R. 31. Hovenden.
ALEXANDRIA. 121
THE DEATH OF ANTONY. Enter, above, Cleopatra, Charmiax, and Iras.
rjLEOPATRA. O Charmiau! I wHl never go from ^ hence.
Charmian. Be comforted, dear madam.
..f"^^^- No, I wiUnot:
All strange and terrible events arc welcome. But comforts we despise ; our size of sorrow, Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great '
Enter, below, Diohedes. As that which makes it. How now ! is lie dead ?
DiOMEDEs. His death *s upon him, but not dead. Look out o' the other side your monument ; His guard have brought him thither.
Enter, be/ow, Axtony, borne bi/ the Guard.
Cleo. n
y) sun,
Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in ! — darkling stand
The varying shore o' tiie world. O Autouy,
Antony, Antony ! — Help, Charmian ! help,' Iras, help'
Help, friends below ! let 's draw him hither.
Antony. -o i
1 eace !
Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony, But Antony's hath triumplied on itself.
Cleo. So it should be, that none but Antony Should conquer Antony ; but woe 't is so !
Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying; only I here importune death awhile, until
123 POEMS OF PLACES.
Of many tlioiisand kisses the poor last I lay upon tliy lips. —
Cleg. I dare not, dear,
(Dear my lord, pardon,) I dare not, Lest I be taken: not tli' imperious show Of the full-fortim'd Caesar ever shall Be brooch'd with me ; if knife, drugs, serpents have Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe : Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour Demuring upon me. — But come, come, Antony, — Help me, my women, — we must draw thee up: — Assist, good friends.
Ant. Oh, quick ! or I am gone.
Cleg. Here 's sport, indeed ! — How heavy weighs my lord ! Our strength is all gone into heaviness. That makes the weight. Had I great Juno's power, The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up, And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little, — Wishers were ever fools ; — Oh, come, come, come !
{They draw Antony up^ And welcome, welcome ! die, where thou hast liv'd : Quicken with kissing ; had my lips that power. Thus would I wear them out.
All. a heavy sight !
Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying: Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.
Cleg. No, let me speak; and let me rail so high. That the false huswife Eortu:ie break her wheel, Provok'd by my offence.
ALEXANDKIA. 123
Ant. One word, sweet queen :
Of Csesar seek your honour witli your safety. — Oh !
Cleo. They do not go together.
Ant. Gentle, hear me :
None about Caesar trust, l)ut Proeuleius.
Cleo. My resolution and my hands I "11 trust ; None about Csesar.
AxT. The miserable change now at my end, Lament nor sorrow at; but please your thoughts, In feeding them with those my former fortunes Wherein I liv'd, the greatest prince o' the world, Tlie noblest ; and do now not basely die, Nor cowardly put off my helmet to My countryman; a Roman by a Roman Valiantly vanquish'd. Now, my spirit is going ; I can no more. [Dira.
WUliam Shakesjieare.
DEATH OF ANTONY.
IA^r dying, Egypt, dying ! Ei)l)s the crimson life-tide fast, And the dark Plutonian sliadows
Gather on the evening blast. Let thine arm, O queen, sui)poi't me ! Hush thy sobs and bow thine ear. Hearken to the great heart secrets. Thou, and tliou alone, must hear.
Though my scarred and veteran legions Bear their eai]rles hiijrh no more.
124: POEMS OF PLACES.
And my wrecked and sliattered galleys Strew dark Actium's fatal shore;
Though no glittering guards surround me, Prompt to do their master's will,
I must perish Uke a Homan, — Die the great Triumvir still.
Let not Cffisar's servile minions
Mock the lion thus laid low; 'T was no foeman's hand that slew him,
'T was his own that struck the blow. Hear, then, pillowed on thy bosom,
Ere his star fades quite away. Him who, drunk with thy caresses.
Madly flung a world away !
Should the base plebeian rabble
Dare assail my fame at Rome, Where the noble spouse, Octavia,
Weeps within her widowed home. Seek her, — say the gods have told me.
Altars, augurs, circling wings. That her blood, with mine commingled.
Yet shall mount the throne of kings.
And for thee, star-eyed Egyptian !
Glorious sorceress of the Nile, Light the path to Stygian horrors
With the splendors of thy smile. Give the Caesar crowns and arches.
Let his brow the laurel twine;
ALEXANDRIA. 125
I can scorn tlie Senate's triuniplis, Tnuinplung in love like thine.
I am dying, Egypt, dying ;
Hark ! the insulting foeman's cry : They are coming, — quick, my falchion!
Let me front thcni ere I die. Ah ! no more amid the battle
Shall my heart exulting swell; Isis and Osiris guard thee, —
Cleopatra ! Rome ! farewell !
iniliam 11. Lytle,
ALEXANDRIA.
STAND on the gleaming Pharos, and aloud Shout, Commerce, to the kingdoms of tlie earth; Shout, for thy golden portals arc set wide, And all thy streamers o'er the surge, aloft, In pomp triumphant wave. The weary way That ])alc Nearchus passed, from creek to creek Advancing sh)W, no longer bounds the track Of the adventurous mariner, who steers Steady, with eye intent ujuju tlie stars, To Ehim's echoing ])ort. Meantime, more high Aspiring, o'er the Western main her towers The imperial city lifts, the central mart Of nations, and beneath the calm clear sky, At distance from tlie palmy marge, displays Her clustering columns, whitening to the morn. Damascus' llcccc, Golconda's gems, arc there.
126 POEMS or PLACES.
Murmurs the haven with one ceaseless hum ;
The hurrying camel's bell, the driver's song,
Along the sands resound. Tyre, art thou fallen?
A prouder city crowns the inland sea.
Raised by his hand who smote thee ; as if thus
His mighty mind were swayed to recompense
The evil of his march through cities stormed.
And regions wet with blood! and still had flowed
The tide of commerce through the destined track.
Traced by his mind sagacious, who surveyed
The world he conquered with a sage's eye,
As with a soldier's spirit.
William Lisle Bowles.
ALEXANDRIA.
ONE city yet, and Nile's time-hallowed shore Our fondly lingering step detains no more. Domes, minarets, their spiry heads that rear, Mocking with gaudy hues the ruins near ; Dim crumbling colonnades, and marble walls. Rich columns, broken statues, roofless halls ; Beauty, deformity, together thrown, A maze of ruins, date, design unknown, — Sach is the scene, the conquest Time hath won, Such the famed city built by Philip's son. Ah me ! mid tottering towers, and regal tombs. Tall sculptured columns, echoing catacombs. How Turkish piles, and works of modem art, Chafe with romance, and bid high dreams depart!
Nicholas Micliell.
ALEXANDKIA. 127
PHILIP THE FREEDMAN.
IT was a barren beach on Egypt's strand, And near the waves, wliere lie had breathed his last, The form of one slain there by treachery Lay stripped and mangled. On each manly limb Somewhat of strength and beauty yet remained, Though war and toil and travel, and the lapse Of sixty years save one, had left their marks Traced visibly.
But the imperial head. The close-curled locks, and grizzled beard were gone ! Soon to be laid before the feet of one Who should receive with anguish, horror-struck, Giver and gift ! and, weeping, turn away.
The i-uffian task was ended, — the base crowd Had stared its vulgar fill, — and they were gone, The murderers and the parasites, — all gone. But one yet lincfered, and beside the dead, As the last footstep died away, he knelt, And laved its clotted wounds in the salt sea, Composed with care the violated frame. Doffed his own garment, and with reverent hands Covered the nakedness of those brave limbs. But for a ])ile — a few dry boughs of wood For him, before whose step forests had fallen And cities blazed! — yet looking, sore perplexed, He spies the wreck of an old lishing-boat.
128 POEMS OF PLACES.
Wasted by sun and rain, — yet still enough For a poor body, naked, unentire.
While yet he laid the ribs and pitchy planks
In such array as might be, decently,
For him, whose giant funeral pyramid
All Rome had raised (could he have died at Home),
An old man came beside him —
"Who art thou,
That all alone dost tend with this last service
Pompey the Great ? " He said, " I am his freedmau."
"Tliou shalt not make this honor all thine own!
Snice fate affords it, suffer me to share
Thy pious task, though I have undergone
These many years of exile and misfortune,
'T will be one solace to have aided thee
In offering all that now remains to him.
My old commander, — and the greatest, noblest.
That Rome hath ever borne ! "
They raised the body.
And tenderly, as we move one in pain,
Laid it upon the pile, in tears and silence.
And one, his friend, — full soon to follow him, —
(Late shipped from Cyprus with Etesian gales,)
Coasting along that desolate shore, beheld
The smoke slow rising, and the funeral pyre
Watched by a single form.
" Who then has ended
His days, and leaves his bones upon this beach?"
He said, and added, with a sigh, "Ah, Pompey!
It "may be thou ! "
Henry Howard Brownell.
ALEXANDRIA. 129
Ci<:SAR IN TEARS.
C;esak, pursuing Porapcy, had reached the shore of Alexandria, when Acliillas met him, bearinj; his murdered rival's head covered wilh a veil. Citsar turued away his face and \*ept.
PHARSALIA'S victor ncaring Eg\T)t's sliore, By rapid jounicys over land and sea, Pursues his mighty rival. Where is he Whom Caesar feared a little while before? In headless ruin! Pompey is no more. But in the dead what terrors there may be ! That veiled horror Caisar's self would lice Which, for a welcome, base Achillas bore. The form of gallant Pompey fronts him not; How dreader yet that gory head of his, Once dear, so dear to Julia's faithful love ! Julia, in Caesar's heart all unforgot. Oh, well may thought of all that was, that is. To strongest tears the mighty Caesar move !
Charlotte Tiske Bates.
rOMPEYS riLL.Ml.
PILLAR of Pompey I gazing o'er the sea, In solemn pride, and mournfid majesty ! When on thy graceful shaft, and towering head, In quivering crimson, day's last beams are shed. Thou look'st a thing some spell with lile supplies, Or a rich llame ascending to the skies.
130 POEMS OF PLACES.
Ah ! well the ill-staiTed memory dost thou keep Of Rome's famed son, who perished on yon deep: Dark was the hour brave Pompey sought this strand, riying from foes to die by Treachery's hand. As fell the stroke on him she could not save, Cornelia's shriek was heard along the wave. And viewless nymphs, that rode the ocean gale, Telt for her woe, and answered to her wail. He who once vanquished kings, gave crowns away, Alone, unhonored, on the sea-beach lay, Till, wrung by grief, an old man, drawing near. Gazed on the hero's corpse with many a tear. And raised a funeral pile, and scattered flowers. Praying his soul might enter heavenly bowers: Plame, dust, a darksome pit, not tomb of state; So set the star of him men named the Great.
Nicholas Michell.
CLEOPATRA'S NEEDLE.
WHAT obelisk northward meets the curious eye ? Rich as an orient gem, it courts the sky; Its tapering sides a myriad sculptures grace. Dark mystic writing of earth's early race. Brought from far Tliebes, it decked the splendid pile Wliere Beauty, famed forever, shed her smile; Hence to yon shaft cling memories sweet and rare. And lore and love their souls are breathing there. Hail, Cleopatra ! Egypt's peerless queen ! Though crushing Ruin walks the darkened scene,
ALEXANDRIA. ^ 131
Still seems her spirit, starlike, to illume
The mouldered palace and the roek-cut tomb,
Alon^ the columned path to wander slow,
Or fill dark courts with regal pomp and show;
Across yon deep her ijaliey ])lou£:hs its way,
The oars of silver flashing through the spray,
While wanton zephyrs spread the silken sail,
And airy music dies on summer's gale.
Yes, her bright shade, her memory, haiuit each spot ;
The choked-up fount, the ocean's sparry grot,
The flowers that bloom on Pharos' breezy isle.
The graceful palms tliat fringe the branching Nile, .
The glittering wrecks of glory's vanished hour, —
All speak her fume and love's undying power,
Nicholas Michel I.
THE BATTLE OF ALEXANDRIA.
HARP of Memnon ! sweetly strung To the music of the spheres ; While the hero's dirge is sung, Breathe enchantment to our ears.
As the sun's descending beams. Glancing o'er thy feeling wire,
Kindle every chord that gleams, Like a ray of heavenly lire:
Let thy numbers, soft and slow, O'er the plain with carnage spread.
Soothe the dying while they flow To the memory of the dead.
132 . POEMS OF PLACES.
Bright as Beauty, newly born, Blushing at her maiden charms;
Tresh from Ocean rose the Morn, When the trumpet blew to arms.
Terrible soon grew the light On the Egyptian battle-plain,
As the darkness of that night When the eldest born was slain.
Jjashed to madness by the wind, As the Red Sea surges roar,
Leave a gloomy gulf behind,
And devour the shrinking shore;
Thus, with overwhelming pride, Gallia's brightest, boldest boast.
In a deep and dreadful tide. Rolled upon the British host.
Dauntless these their station held. Though with unextinguished ire
Gallia's legions thrice repelled.
Thrice returned through blood and fire.
Thus, above the storms of time. Towering to the sacred spheres.
Stand the Pyramids sublime, — Rocks amid the flood of years.
Now the veteran Chief drew nigh. Conquest towering on his crest.
ALEXANDRIA. 133
Yalor beaming from his eye, Pity bleeding in his breast.
Britain saw him thus advance
In her guardian-angel's form ; But he lowered on hostile France,
Like the demon of the storm.
On the whirlwind of the war Higli he rode in vengeance dire ;
To his friends a leading star, To his foes consuming fire.
Then the mighty poured their breath.
Slaughter feasted on the brave ! 'T was the carnival of death :
'T was the vintage of the grave.
Charged with Abcrcrombic's doom,
Lightning winged a cruel ball: 'T was the herald of the tomb.
And the liero felt the call, —
Telt, and raised his arm on high ;
Victory well the signal knew. Darted from his awful eye.
And the force of France o'erthrew.
But the horrors of tliat fight Were the weeping Muse to tell,
O, 't would cleave the womb of night. And awake the dead that fell!
134 POEMS or PLACES.
Gaslied with honorable scars.
Low in Glory's lap they lie; Though they fell, they fell like stars.
Streaming splendor through the sky. * * *
James Montfjomery.
Assouan [Syene).
JUVENAL AT SYENE.
HERE at the utmost bound of Roman power, Thy prison walls the Arabian Libyan waste, Slave over slaves, thy tyrant bade thee cower, Even by the soldier's office more disgraced, Eating thy indignant heart out through each hour, And every drop of Exile's chalice taste. Take comfort, noble lieart, for while the hand Which held thee loosens in the charnel's dust. That shameless forehead bears its eternal brand Yet in thy living page, and cruelty's lust Cut into deathless adamant shall stand, — So that Oblivion spare its pitying rust, — But thy name, brightening through these Christian years, Virtue shall speak.it but with grateful tears.
Thomas Gold Apple to ti.
AssouAxN (syene). 135
SYENE.
ONWARD to Ombi,— tlicre to note, as cliief. Its Ptolemaic fane, in pride columnar, On mound conspicuous at those level shores; And then to Ultima Thulc of Egyi)tus, Where commerce, clieckod by rocky, foann'ng falls In much suspends its course. Sycuc this. Of bold, romantic aspect, rearinj^ up Amid the waters, — shaggy cliffs around ; With greenest groves of pahn and lebbck tree ; Wliere Nubian girls are seen, unhccdfully Cooling their slender limbs in Nilus' wave. Syene — school of science most remote Of first observatory, temple eke. Where learned hicrophants, star-gazing, dwelt, Or, at the Solstice, watched their sacred wrll, One day illumined by the vertic sun, Its circled marge by classic foot impressed Of king and priest, and ancient traveller, Herodotus, Eudoxus, Manetlio sage. And here the gnomon on tliat day marks not At noon the looked-for shadow on the dial. Here too the quaiTy from wliose womb have spruni In tinctured granite, carved and polished. Obelisk, and temple, and colossal form Spread o'er the face of EgY])t's mystic land. Near, the twin island Elephantine,-— A sylvan nook one time the scat of kingdom;
136 POEMS OF PLACES.
With temples and green gardens interspersed,
" Islet of flowers," so named, and then again.
On, to the rocky isle of Philae, placed
Bslow the rushing rapids, in a lake
Serene, translucent, of the river's bend, —
A swan upon its bosom ! and environed
By granite bluffs fantastic, — where is found
Shaded by palm-groves, that most affluent temple —
To Isis dedicate, in earliest time, —
Joined by the later fane, of triune worship,
To God Osiris, Isis, and their son.
Joseph Ellis,
Cairo.
THE LEGEND OF ST. VITUS.
TO Cairo city, one hot afternoon, In the midsummer, came an anchorite, Pale, shrunk as any corpse, thin, lean, and blanched, Prom dwelling in the tombs deep from the light : Tall, gaunt, and wan, across the desert sand He strode, trampling on avarice ; by his side, Licking his hands, two dappled panthers paced. With lolling tongues, and dark and tawny hide.
The gilded domes of Cairo blazed and shone. The minarets arose like long keen spears Planted around a sleeping Arab's tent.
I
CAIRO. 137
Tlie saint's attendants pricked their spotted ears Wlien the muezzin, with his droning cry, Summoned to prayers, and frightened vultures screamed, Swooping from the gilt roof that glittered in the sky. Or the tall parapet that o'er it gleamed.
The liermit came to where the traders sat.
Grave turbaned men, wcigliing out heaps of pearls,
Around a splashing fountain; wafts of myrrh
Rose to the curtahied roof in wreathing curls.
And Abyssinian slaves, Avitli sword and bow,
"Watched at the doorway, while a dervish danced
In giddy circles, chanting Allah's name,
"With long, lean arm soutstretched and eyes entranced.
St. Vitus spumed tlic gold and pearls away.
And struck the dervish silent with a blow
That loosened half his tcclli, (the infidel !)
And tossed the ct^nsers fiercely to and fro ;
Then sang, defiant of the angry men,
" IIow long, O Lord, how long ? " and raised his eyes
To the high heaven, praying God to send
Some proof to them from out those burning skies.
And when their knives flew out, and eunuelis ran, With steel and l)owstring, swift to choke and bleed, The saint drew forth from underneath his rol)c A Nubian flute, carved from a yellow reed ; Tlien put it to his lips, and music rose, So wild and wayward that, on either hand, Straightway perforce tlie turbaned men began To whirl and circle like the wind-tossed sand.
138 POEMS OF PLACES.
And so the saint passed on, until he reached
A mosque, with many domes and cupolas,
And roof hung tliick with lamps and ostrich-eggs,
And round the walls a belt of crescent stars.
Towards the Mecca niche the worshippers
Bent altogether in a turbaned row ;
So, seeing this idolatry, the saint
Struck the chief reader twice a sturdy blow.
Then they howled all at once, and many flew,
With sabres drawn, upon the holy man.
To toss him to the dogs. The panthers still
Kept them at bay until the saint began
Upon his flute to breathe his magic tune.
Such as the serpent-charmers use to charm
The sand-asps forth, and straightway priests and flock
Began to circle round ; and free from harm
He glided forth on to the caliph's house.
Where in divan he and the vizier were,
Girt with the council of the rich and wise, -|
And all the Mullahs who his secrets share. I
There he raised up the crucifix on high, 'i
Spat on the Koran, cursed Mohammed's name,
Took the proud caliph's turban from his head.
And threw it to his panthers. Eire and flame
Broke forth around him, as when in a mine The candle comes unguarded; swords flashed out By twenties, and from inner court to court Ban the alarm, the clamor, and the shout.
CAIRO. 139
The saint, unmoved, drew forth his magic flute (It was the greatest miracle of all), And, lo ! the soldiers, counsellors, and slaves Swept dancing, fever-stricken, round the hall.
Hound went tlic caliph with his shaven head, Kound went the vizier, raging as he danced. Kound went the archers, and the sable crew Tore round in circles, every one entranced By that sweet mystic music Heaven sent; Kound, round in ceaseless circles, swifter still, — Till dropped each sword, till dropped each bow unbent.
And then the saint once more into the street Glided unhurt, and sought the market-place. Where dates rolled forth from baskets, and the figs Were purple ripe, and every swarthy face Was hot with wrangling; and he cursed Mahound Loud in the midst, and set up there his cross, O'er the mosque gate, and wailed aloud a psalm, — " Let God arise, and all his foes confound."
But the fierce rabble hissed, and throwing stones, Sliouted, "Slay, slay the wretch!" and "Kill, kill,
kill!" ^ And some seized palm-tree staves and jagged shards; In every eye there was a murderous will, Until the saint drew forth again his flute. And all the peo]ile drove to the mad dance, With nodding heads and never-wearying feet, And leaden eyes fixed in a magic trance.
140 POEMS OF PLACES.
And so lie left them dancing : one by one They fell in swoons and fevers, worn and spent. Then the stern anchorite took his magic flute, And broke it o'er his knee, and homeward went. Tossing the useless tube, now split and rent, Upon the sand; then through the desert gate Passed, with his panthers ever him beside; And raised his hands to heaven and shouted forth, "Amen, amen I God's name be glorified!"
Walter Thornhury.
Damietta,
MARGUERITE OF FRANCE.
Whilst M argruerite. Queen of St. Louis, was besieg^ed by the Turks in Damietta, during the captivity of the Icing, her husband, she there gave birth to a son, whom she named Tristan, in commemoration of her mis- fortunes. Information being conveyed to lier that the knights intrusted ■with the defence of the city liad resolved on capitulation, slie l»ad tlieni summoned to her apartment, and, by lier heroic words, so wrouglit upon their spirits that they vowed to defend her and the Cross to the last e.xtremity.
THE Moslem spears were gleaming Round Damietta' s towers, Though a Christian banner from her wall
Waved free its lily-flowers. Ay, proudly did the banner wave.
As queen of earth and air ; But faint hearts throbbed beneath Its folds. In anguisli and despair.
DAMIETTA. 141
Deep, deep in Payuim dungeon
Their kingly chieftain lay. And low on many an Eastern field
Their knighthood's best array. 'T was mournful, when at feasts they met.
The wine-cup round to send, For each that touched it silently
Then missed a gallant friend !
And mournful was their vigil
On the beleaguered wall, And dark their slumber, dark with dreams
Of slow defeat and fall. Yet a few hearts of chivalry
Rose high to breast the storm, And one — of all the loftiest there —
Thrilled in a woman's form.
A woman, meekly bending
O'er the slumber of her child, AVith her soft sad eyes of weeping love.
As the Virgin Mother's mild. 0, roughly cradled was thy ])abe,
Midst tlie clash of spear and hnicc, And a strange, wild iKJWcr was thine, young Queen,
Fair Marguerite of France !
A dark and vaulted chaml)er,
Like a scene for wizard-spell, Deep in the Saracenic gloom
Of the warrior citadel ;
142 POEMS OF PLACES.
And there midst arms the couch was spread. And with banners curtained o'er,
Por the daughter of tlie minstrel land. The gay Provenfal shore !
Tor the bright Queen of St. Louis,
The star of court and hall ! But the deep strength of the gentle heart.
Wakes to the tempest's call ! Her lord was in the Paynim's hold.
His soul with grief oppressed. Yet calmly lay the desolate,
With her young babe on her breast !
There were voices in the city,
Voices of wrath and fear, — • "The walls grow weak, the strife is vain,
We will not perish here ! Yield ! yield ! and let the crescent gleam
O'er tower and bastion high ! Our distant homes are beautiful, —
We stay not here to die ! "
They bore those fearful tidings
To the sad queen where she lay, — They told a tale of wavering hearts.
Of treason and dismay : The blood rushed througli her pearly cheek,
The sparkle to her eye, — "Now call me hither those recreant knights
Trom the bands of Italy ! "
DAMIETTA. 143
Then tlirougli the vaulted chambers
Stern iron footsteps rang, And heavily the sounding floor
Gave back the sabre's clang. They stood around her, — steel-clad men.
Moulded for storm and fight, But they quailed before the loftier soul
In that pale aspect bright.
Yes, as before the falcon shrinks
The bird of meaner wing, So shrank they from the imperial glance
Of her, — that fragile thing ! And her flute-like voice rose clear and high,
Through the din of arms around, Sweet, and yet stirring to the soul,
As a silver clarion's sound.
" The honor of the Lily
Is in your hands to keep. And the banner of the Cross, for Ilim
Who died on Calvary's steep: And the city which for Christian prayer
Hath heard the holy bell, — And is it these your hearts would yield
To the godless infldel?
"Then bring me here a breastplate.
And a helm, before ye fly, And I will gird my woman's form, *
Aud on the lamparts die !
144 POEMS or PLACES.
And the boy whom I have borne for woe.
But never for disgrace. Shall go within mine arms to death
Meet for his royal race.
*'Look on him as he slumbers
In the shadow of the lance ! Then go, and with the Cross forsake
The princely babe of Trance! But tell your homes ye left one heart
To perish undefiled; A woman and a queen, to guard
Her honor and her child ! "
Before her words they thrilled, like leaves
When winds are in the wood; And a deepening murmur told of men
Roused to a loftier mood. And her babe awoke to flashing swords.
Unsheathed in many a hand. As they gathered round the helpless one.
Again a noble band !
" We are thy warriors, lady !
True to the Cross and thee ! The spirit of thy kindling word
On every sword shall be! Rest, with thy fair child on thy breast.
Rest, — we will guard thee well :
St. Denis for the Uly-flower,
And the Christian citadel ! '*
Felicia llemans.
ENSENE (aNTINOE). — GUEEZEU (GJZEll). 145
Ensene (Antinoe),
ANTINOUS.
The oracle at Besa declared tliat a great danger threatened Adrian,
unless some person very dear to liini should offer his life in propitiation. Antiiious, a fa\oritc of the Emperor, on heaniig this, tlirew himself into the Ailc as an offering. To lus memory Adrian built the city of Antiuoe.
EVEN nigh tlic golden funiacc of a tlirone, riowcr-like thy loyalty and noble heart Could live unwithercd, and thy better part The canker of low selfishness disoMn, Losing itself hid in another's love. And when commanding Fate said " for thy friend Give what he prizes most," — all fear above, Or thought that death such intercourse sliould end, Thy life thou gavest like some common thing. Sliaming all else, and never to forget Tlie place of sacrifice, the lonely king Beside the fatal wave a city set Commemorative, which ruin but endears, And thy name lives there whispered through our tears.
Thomas Gold Jppleton.
Gheezeli (Gizeh),
GIZEII.
LO ! towards the west, where skies arc blue and clear, Their bald, dark heads what giant structures rear ? High o'er the Kilo, and Gizeh's waste of sand,
146 - POEMS OF PLACES.
They look around, dread guardians of the land.
Stupendous works of Mizraim's early kings !
Where Time hath dropped his scythe and furled kis
wings, The hoary god for ages standing by, Watching their unchanged summits pierce the sky. As nearer Gizeh's wondrous piles we draw, What stirs within us ? — sadness blent with awe : To gaze above, their massy outlines trace. To lean, a less tlian pygmy, at their base ; To muse on that vast crowd, in other years Worn with their toil, and weeping slavery's tears. That one man's mortal frame might brave decay. One tyrant's memory should not pass away. How fills the soul with thoughts too deep for words ! How dark a scene the pictured past affords ! But wliile we mourn the follies of our kind, How glorious seems all-conquering, daring mind ! These piles at once grand, matchless, and sublime. Yet proofs of darkness, monuments of crime?
O'er Libya's hills the Day-god sinks once more, Brightly as when their crowns the Pharaohs wore; Sweet, too, as tlien, red-mantled Evening throws O'er Egypt's vale the spell of rich repose; Soft glides and dimples 'neatli the sunset smile The stream of ruins, ancient, storied Nile : On painted tomb, and crumbling city's site, Ealls, like a shower of gold, the mellow light. But brightest here the farewell splendors beam ; Erom pile to pile the lines of glory stream.
HELIOPOLIS (MATARIA.) 147
Up from the desert shoot the quivering rays; Ko cloud, no mist, relieves that living blaze. The horizon burns like some vast funeral pyre; Each towering pyramid seems capped with lire. But brief that glory, — one by one away Fade the red beams ; now softer colors play. Pale rose-hues quivering down each structure's side, Till deepening shadows veil their pomp and pride. * * *
The pyramids, the tombs, — Death's Stygian bowers, Ungraeed by yews, unbeautified by flowers, That crowd the desert sands where, race on race, Men toiled, laughed, wept, then made their resting.
place. The sphinx, like some vast thing of monstrous birth, Begot by mountains of the laboring earth. Or darkly heaved from Pluto's realms below. Save that too sweet those Ethiop features glow. Too sadly calm, majestic, and benign, To image aught but attributes divine.
Nicholas Midi el I.
Ildlopolis (JIataria).
HELIOrOLIS.
NEXT IleliopoHs, City of the Sun, — A shattered sepulchre, a wreck of shrines ! Here Cwsar, zealous, " This must we survey ; The hallowed spot where Plato and Eudoxus
148 POEMS OF PLACES.
Conceived new tlionglits, — wliere Moses, legislator.
Derived his wisdom to instruct mankind, —
Moses, prime leader of a tribe lieroic.
Who told of heaven and earth, in godlike words.
This city first-named On, whence Joseph took,
Tor wife, the high-priest's daughter, Asenath ;
Whence later Baruch, Jeremiah sang.
This seat of learning where sage Manetho wrote.
Which fostered Solon and Pythagoras,
Where somewhile dwelt sublime Euripides."
So saw he vestiges of those grand temples
Built to the Sun-god Re; and obelisks.
Ancient when seen by Moses and by Plato, —
Transported now to European shores.
Joseph Ellis.
Ipsamhoul [Abu-SimheT), Nubia.
IPSAMBOUL.
IPSAMBOUL! — name that wakens wonder's thrill, — Why stand ye, spell-bound, near yon sculptured hill ? High o'er the flowing Nile the temples frown. Their monster guardians gazing dimly down. Those awful forms that seem with being rife. Primeval giants starting into life ! Beside those limbs how pygmy-like are we ! 'T is toil and pain to climb the statue's knee : See the broad breast like some vast buttress spread.
IPSAMBOUL (aBU-SIMBEL), NUBIA. 149
High as a war-tower springs tlie huge capped head.
What were they, mighty ones, dark Titan band,
Shaped to this awful gidse by human hand ?
The forms of heroes conquering once the world,
Or types of gods from heaven's high regions hurled?
Yet in those lofty features naught appears
To shock the gazer's heart, or wake his fears;
Calm and benign, they front the rising sun,
How oft the burning orb his course hath run,
Lighting to million graves the human race.
But, still returning, sees each solemn face !
Nicholas Michell.
ABU SDIBEL.
THIS is the shrine of Silence, sunk and liewn Deep in the solid rock : its pillars rise Trom floor to roof, like giants, with fixed eyes And palms crossed on their breasts; e'en at mid-noon A dim light falls around, as though the moon Were peering at the temple from the skies. The foot falls soundless on the sand, that lies A carpet by long centuries thick-strewn. The mighty shapes that guard the solemn pile, Unburied, after ages, from the tomb Heaped on them by tlie blast of the simoom. Sit at tlie portal, gazing, night and day, O'er the lone desert, strctcliing far away. And on the eternal flood of Tather Kile.
John Bruce Norton.
150 POEMS OF PLACES.
Karnah
KAENAK.
SO, with a troop of friends and Thcban slaves. Led by an aged liierophant, wcU-vcrsed In mystic records of Egyptus' land, And liierogrammat of linguistic skill, — Caesar went forth, in sober merriment. To view the skeletons of ages fled, — The giant bones, denoting giant minds ; Those unexampled temples sempitern — Luxor and Karnak, twain, yet linked in one By avenue of sphinxes, multiplied, To endless view; — and first to Luxor, built Ey Amunothph ; passing through the propylon huge. Prefaced by two tall obelisks, and two Gigantic figures human-form; beyond. The temple-tomb of Ozymandias, And countless gaunt mementos of the past. But when, mid lines of sphinx and obelisk. To Karnak Caisar came, he said, amazed, " Too wonderful this vision to be real, — The work of necromancy, or a dream ! This grand confusion, these colossal forms, This wide extent of ruin ; how could die Men who had life for this ? they could not die ; Fate fails to cast them to oblivion ; — Here in their deeds they hve; these silent walls.
MEMPHIS. 151
These graven monoliths, with meaning rife, These prostrate statues, and tliese columns stark. Speak, from remotest time, to us who live.
Joseph Ellis.
Mempliis.
MEMPHIS.
BUT now famed Memphis' ancient bounds are gained, Where the long line of iron Pharaohs reigned. Hallowed by sacred lore, these scenes impart A speechless awe, yet interest to the heart. Here exiled Joseph rose to wealth and fame, And, bent with years, the trembling Israel came. Yonder in Goshen toiled, with many a sigh. His countless sons, and mourned for days gone by; And far away, where sweeps the Red Sea shore. Lies the long track their myriads hurried o'er, When blazed the fiery cloud o'er mount and plain. And midnight winds rolled back the subject main. While Moses led them on with wand of might. Saw Pharaoh's host, nor trembled at the sight.
But Memphis' kings are less than ashes now, The crowns e'en dust, that decked each royal brow. Goshen, where Israel toiled, no trace retains Of all the towers they built, when scourged in chains. Memphis herself, as cursed for injuries piled
152 POEMS OF PLACES.
On Judah's head, long, long liatli strewn tlie wild. Where is the shrine to soft-eyed Apis reared, That sacred bull, kings, blood-stained chiefs revered? Where Vulcan's fane ? and, gorgeous as a dream, The gold-roofed palace raised by Nilus' stream? No vestige meets the pilgrim's curious gaze ; O'er Memphis' site the turbaned robber strays ; Each wall is razed, each pillared shrine o'erthrown; Tlie sands drift on, the desert breezes moan; Shades of the Pharaohs ! rise from marble sleep ! And o'er your lost loved city bend and weep !
Nicholas Michell.
Meroey Nubia.
MEPlOE.
FAB. down in Nubia's waste gray temples stand, Tottering with age, each doorway choked with sand; And further on, in groups against the sky. Long lines of pyramids ascend on high. By all forsaken, save by beasts of prey. And that dark bird, a god in ancient day, Whose voice still sounds, as shadowy twilight falls. Like a ghost's wail along those lonely walls. And here stood Ethiop's city, once arrayed In power and pomp, that sun-bright Afric swayed; Here Amnion first bade listening nations quail. And Isis wore her dim mysterious veil —
NILE, THE IIIVER. 153
Home of young Learning! "cradle of each art! Where keen Discovery traced her mazy chart, — Land, far and wide, that sent adventurers forth, Peopled the South, refined the savage !N'orth, Launched her bold pilots o'er the Indian wave, And placed her gods in many a tem])le cave.
Nicholas Mich ell.
Nile, the Biver.
HYMN TO THE NILE.
This hymn is important as bearing; witness to the state of relinrions tliought in Egypt in the time of Merneptah, the son of llium'ses II. XlXth dynasty, according to the generality of Egyptologers, contem- porary with Moses.
HAIL to thee, O Nile ! Thou shewest thyself in this land, Coming in peace, giving life to Egypt: O Ammon, thou Icadest night unto day, A leading that rejoices the heart ! Overflowing the gardens created by Ra. Giving life to aH animals ; ■Watering the land without ceasing: The way of heaven descending: Lover of food, bestower of corn, Givnig light to every home, 0 Ptah ! * ♦ *
Bringer of food ! Great Lord of provisions ! Creator of all good things !
154 POEMS OF PLACES.
Lord of terrors and of choicest joys !
All are combined in him.
He produceth grass for the oxen ;
Providing victims for every god.
The choice incense is that which he supplies.
Lord in both regions,
He filleth the granaries, enricheth the storehouses.
He careth for the state of the poor.
He causeth growth to fulfil all desires.
He never wearies of it.
He maketli his might a buckler.
He is not graven in marble.
As an image bearing the double crown.
He is not beheld :
He hath neither ministrants nor offerings :
He is not adored in sanctuaries :
His abode is not known :
No shrine is found with painted figures.
The inundation comes, then cometh rejoicing;
Every heart exulteth :
The tooth of the crocodiles, the children of Neith
Even the circle of the gods who are counted with thee.
Doth not its outburst water the fields,
Overcoming mortals with joy :
Watering one to produce another.
Tliere is none who worketh with him ;
He produces food without the aid of Neith.
Mortals he causes to rejoice.
KILE, THE RIVER. 155
He givetli liglit on liis coming from darkness :
In the pastures of his cattle
His might produceth all :
IVhat was not, his moisture bringetli to life.
Men are clothed to fill his gardens :
He careth for his laborers.
He maketh even and noontide,
He is the infinite Ptah and Kabes.
He createth all works therein,
All writings, all sacred words.
All Ills implements in the North.
* * ♦
O inundation of Nile, ofTe rings arc made to thee; Oxen are slain to tliec ; Great festivals are kept for thee; Fowls are sacrificed to thec; Beasts of the field are caught for thee ; Pure flames are offered to thee ; Offerings are made to every god, As tliey are made unto Nile. Incense ascends unto heaven, * Oxen, bulls, fowls are burnt ! Nile makes for himself chasms in Ihe Thebaid ; Unknown is his name in heaven, He doth not manifest his forms ! Vain arc all representations !
Mortals extol him, and the cycle of gods ! Awe is felt by tiie terrible ones; His son is made Lord of all. To enlighten all Egypt.
156 POEMS OF PLACES.
Shine forth, shine forth, O Nile ! sliine forth ! Giving hfe to men by his oxen: Giving life to his oxen by the pastures ! Sliine forth in glory, O Nile.
From the Egyptian of Enna. Tr. F. C. Cook.
THE NILE.
ALAND far distant, where the tawny race Dwell near the fountains of the sun, and where The Nigris pours his dusky waters; wind Along his banks, till tliou shalt reach the fall Where from the mountains with papyrus crowned The venerable Nile impetuous pours His headlong torrent ; he shall guide thy steps To those irriguous plains, whose triple sides
His arms surround.
^sc/it/lus. Tr. R. Potter.
THE NILE.
KNOW then, to all those stars, by nature driven In opposition to revolving heaven. Some one pecuhar influence was given. The sun the seasons of the year supplies. And bids tlie evening and the morning rise; Commands the planets with superior force. And keeps each wandering light to liis appomtcd course. The silver moon o'er briny seas presides. And heaves huge ocean with alternate tides.
NILE, THE RIVER. 157
Saturn's cold rays in icy climes prevail;
Mars rules the winds, the storm, and rattling hail;
Where Jove ascends, the skies are still serene;
And fruitful Venus is the genial queen;
While every limpid spring and falling stream
Submits to radiant Hermes' reigning beam.
When in the Crab the humid ruler shines,
And to the sultry Lion near inclines,
There fixed immediate o'er Nile's latent source.
He strikes the watery stores with ponderous force ;
Nor can the flood bright Maia's son withstand,
But heaves, like ocean at the moon's command ;
His waves ascend, obedient as the seas.
And reach their destined height by just degrees.
Nor to its bank returns the enormous tide,
Till Libra's equal scales the days and nights divide.
Antiquity, unknowing and deceived.
In dreams of Ethiopian snows believed :
•From hills they taught, how melting currents ran,
When the first swelling of the flood began.
But ah, how vain the thought ! no Boreas there
In icy bonds constrains the wintry year,
But sultry southern winds eternal rain,
And scorching suns the swarthy natives stain.
Yet more, whatever flood tlie frost congeals,
Melts as the genial spring's return he feels;
While Nile's redundant waters never rise.
Till the hot Dog inflames the summer skies ;
Nor to his banks his shrinking stream confines,
Till high in heaven the autumnal balance shines.
Unlike his watery brethren he presides.
158 POEMS OF PLACES.
And by new laws liis liquid empire guides. From dropping seasons no increase lie knows, Nor feels the fleecy showers of melting snows. His river swells not idly, ere the land The timely office of his waves demand ; But knows his lot, by providence assigned, To cool the season, and refresh mankind. Whene'er the Lion sheds his fires around. And Cancer burns Syene's parching ground ; Then, at the prayer of nations, comes the Nile, And kindly tempers up the mouldering soil. Nor from the plains the covering God retreats, Till the rude fervor of the skies abates ; Till Phoebus into milder autumn fades, And Meroe projects her lengthening shades. Nor let inquiring sceptics ask the cause, 'Tis Jove's command, and these are nature's laws.
Others of old, as vainly too, have thought By western winds the spreading deluge brought ; While at fixed times, for many a day, they last. Possess the skies, and drive a constant blast; Collected clouds united zephyrs bring, And shed huge rains from many a dropping wing. To heave the flood, and swell the abounding spring. Or when the airy brethren's steadfast force Resists the rushing current's downward course, Backward he rolls indignant, to his head: While o'er the plains his heapy waves are spread.
Some have believed, that spacious channels go Through the dark" entrails of the earth below ; Through these, by turns, revolving rivers pass,
NILE, THE RIVER. 159
And secretly pervade the mic^lity mass ;
Tlirouijli these the sun, wlien from the nortli he flies.
And cuts the glowing Ethiopic skies,
From distant streams attracts their liquid stores,
And through Nile's spring the assembled waters pours:
Till Nile, o'erburdened, disembogues the load.
And spews the foamy deluge all abroad.
Sages there have been, too, who long maintained That ocean's waves through porous earth are drained ; 'T is tlicncc their saltness they no longer keep. By slow degrees still freshening as they creep; Till at a period Nile receives them all, And pours them loosely spreading, as they fall.
The stars, and sun himself, as some have said. By exhalations from tlic deep are fed; And when the golden nder of the day Through Cancer's fiery sign pursues his way, His beams attract too largely from the sea; The refuse of his draughts tlie nights return, And more than fill the Nile's capacious urn.
Were I the dictates of my soul to tell, And speak the reasons of the watery swell, To Providence the task I should assign, And find tiie cause in workmanship divine. Less streams we trace, unerring, to their birth, And know the parent earth which brought them forth : While this, as early Ks the world begun. Ban thus and must continue thus to run ; And still unfathomed by our search, shall own No cause, but Jove's commanding will alone.
Nor, Caesar, is thy search of knowledge strange :
160 POEMS OF PLACES.
Well may thy boundless soul desire to range. Well may she strive Nile's fountain to explore ; Since mighty kings have sought the same before; Each for the first discoverer would be known. And hand, to future times, the secret down ; But still their powers were exercised in vain. While latent Nature mocked their fruitless pain. PhiUp's great son, whom Memphis still records, The chief of her illustrious sceptred lords. Sent, of his own, a chosen number forth. To trace the wondrous stream's mysterious birth. Through Ethiopia's plains they journeyed on. Till the hot sun opposed the burning zone : There, by the God's resistless beams repelled. An unbeginning stream they still beheld. Eierce came Sesostris from the eastern dawn. On his proud car by captive monarchs drawn; His lawless will, impatient of a bound, Commanded Nile's hid fountain to be found : But sooner much the tyrant might have known Thy famed Hesperian Po, or Gallic Rhone. Cambyses, too, his daring Persians led. Where hoary age makes white the Ethiop's head; Till sore distressed and destitute of food. He stained his hungry jaws with human blood ; Till half his host the other half devoured. And left the Nile behind them li^iexplored.
Of thy forbidden head, thou sacred stream. Nor fiction dares to speak, nor poets dream. Through various nations roll thy waters down. By many seen, though still by all unknown;
NILi:, THE laVEU. IGl
No land prosiimos to rlalni tlicc for her own. Yov nie, my huiul)lc talc no more shall toll, Thau what our just records demonstrate well; Than God, who bade thee thus mysterious How, Permits the imrrow mind of man to know. Far in the sqjith the daring waters rise. As in disdain of Cancer's burning skies; Thence with a downward course, they seek the main. Direct against the lazy northern wain; Uidess when, partially, thy winding tide Turns to the Libyan or Arabian side. The distant Seres first behold thee flow ; Nor yet thy spring the distant Seres know. Midst sooty Ethiops next, thy current roams ; The sooty Ethiops wonder whence it comes : Nature conceals thy infant stream with care. Nor lets thee, but in majesty, appear. Upon thy banks astonished nations stand. Nor dare assign thy rise to one peculiar land. Exempt from vulgar laws thy waters run, Nor take their various seasons from the sun; Thougii high in heaven the fiery solstice stand, Obedient winter comes, at thy command. From pole to pole thy boundless waves extend ; One never knows thy rise, nor one thy ciul. By Mcroc thy stream divided roves. And winds encircling round her ebon groves ; Of sable line the costly timbers stand, Dark as the swarthy natives of the land : Yet, though tall woods in wide abunilancc si)rcad, Their leafy tops afl'ord no frieudly shiule;
162 POEMS OF PLACES.
So vertically shine the solar rays,
And from the Lion dart the downward blaze.
From thence, through deserts dry, thou jouniey'st on.
Nor shrink' st, diminished by the torrid zone,
Strong in thyself, collected, full, and one.
Anon, thy streams are parcelled o'er tjie plain.
Anon the scattered currents meet again ;
Jointly they flow, where Philse's gates divide
Our fertQe Egypt from Arabia's side ;
Thence, with a peaceful, soft descent, they creep.
And seek, insensibly, the distant deep ;
Till through seven mouths the famous flood is lost,
On the last Ihnits of our Pharian coast ;
Where Gaza's isthmus rises, to restrain
The Erythraean from the midland main.
Who that beholds thee, Nile ! thus gently flow.
With scarce a wrinkle on thy glassy brow.
Can guess thy rage, when rocks resist thy force.
And hurl thee headlong in thy downward course;
When spouting cararacts thy torrents pour.
And nations tremble at the deafening roar ;
When thy proud waves with indignation rise.
And dash their foamy fury to the skies ?
These wonders reedy Abates can tell.
And the tall cliffs that first declare thy swell ;
The cliff's with ignorance of old believed
Thy parent veins, and for thy spring received.
Erom thence huge mountains Nature's hand provides.
To bank thy too luxurious river's sides ;
As in a vale thy current she restrains.
Nor suffers thee to spread the Libyan plains :
NILE, THE IIIVER. 1G3
At Memphis, first, free liberty she yields, And lets thee loose to float the thirsty fields.
Lucan. Tr. 1^. lioice.
THE NILE.
THE Nile now calls us, pride of Egypt's plains : Sole stream on earth its boundaries that o'crfloAvs Punctual, and scatters plenty. When the year Now glows with perfect summer, leaps its tide Broad o'er the champaign, for the north-wiud now, The Etesian breeze, against its mouth direct Blows with perpetual winnow ; every surge Hence loiters slow, the total current swells. And wave o'er wave its loftiest bank surmounts. Eor that the fixed monsoon that now prevails Flows from the cold stars of the northern pole None e'er can doubt ; while rolls the Nile adverse Full from the south, from realms of torrid heat. Haunts of the Ethiop-tribes ; yet far beyond First bubbhng, distant, o'er the burning line.
Then ocean, haply, by the undevious breeze Blown up its channel, heaves with every wave Heaps of liigh sands, and dams its wonted course: Whence narrower, too, its exit to the main, And with less force the tardy stream descends.
Or, towards its fountain, ampler nuns, perchauc^. Fall, as the Etesian fans, now wide unfurled, Ply the big cl )uds pcr])etual from the north Far o'er tlie red equator ; where, condensed. Ponderous, and low, against the liills thcv strike.
164 POEMS OF PLACES.
And shed their treasures o'er the rising flood. Or, from the Etliiop-rnountains, the bright sun Now full matured, witli deep dissolving ray May melt the agglomerate snows, and down the plains Drive them, augmenting, hence, the incipient stream. Lucretius. Tr. J. 31. Good.
s
TO THE NILE. ON of the old moon-mountains African !
Stream of the pyramid and crocodile !
I We call thee fruitful, and that very while
A desert fills our seeing's inward span:
Nurse of swart nations since the world began.
Art thou so fruitful ? or dost thou beguile
Those men to honor thee, who, worn with toil.
Rest them a space 'twixt Cairo and Decan?
O, may dark fancies err ! They surely do ;
'Tis ignorance that makes a barren waste
Of all beyond itself. Thou dost bedew
Green rushes like our rivers, and dost taste
The pleasant sunrise. Green isles hast thou too,
And to the sea as happily dost haste.
Jo/m KeaU,
THE NILE.
IT flows through old hushed Egypt and its sands, Like some grave mighty thought threading a dream. And times and things, as in that vision, seem Keeping along it their eternal stands, —
NILE, THE RIVER. 165
Caves, pillars, pyramids, the slicpliercl bands Tiiat roamed through the young workl, the glory ex- treme Of liigh Sesostris, and that soutliern beam, The laugliing queen that eaught the world's great liands. Tlien eomes a miglitier silence, stern and strong, As of a world left empty of its throng. And the void weighs on us: and then we wake, And hear the fruitful stream lapsing along 'Twixt villages, and think how we shall take Our own calm journey on for human sake.
Leir/fi Hunt.
OZYMANDIAS.
I MET a traveller from an anti(iue land Who said, " Two vast and trunklcss legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand. Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled li]), and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed ; And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look (m my works, ye mighty, and desjiair ! ' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away."
Per CI/ Bijsshe Shelley.
166 POEMS OF PLACES.
A SUNSET ON THE NILE.
PAST emerald plains and furrowed mountains old, Whose violet gorges snare the wandering eye. The pillared palms day's dying embers hold, Like shafts of bronze against the crimson sky. And every cloud mirrors its rosy fold In tremulous waves which blush and wander by — We float, and feel the magic penetrate. Till all our soul is colored by the hues. Making a heaven of earth, and, satiate With splendor, we forego the use Of speech, and reverently wait While fades the glory with the falling dews, And darkness seals for memory each gleam, Happy to know it was not all a dream.
Thomas Gold Aj}pIeto7i.
MEMNON.
METHOUGHT I lived three thousand years ago, Somewhere in Egypt, near a pyramid ; And in my dream I heard black Memnon playing: He stood twelve cubits high, and, with a voice Like thunder when it breaks on hollow shores. Called on the sky, which answered. Then he awoke His marble music, and with grave sweet sounds Enchanted from her chamber the coy Dawn. He sang, too, — oh, such songs ! Silence, who lay Torpid upon those wastes of level sand,
'^
NILE, THE KTVER. 167
Stirred and grew human; from its shuddering reeds Stole forth tlie crocodile, and birds of blood Hung listening in the rich and burning air.
Bryan Waller Procter.
MOSES ON THE NILE.
SLOW glides the Nile; amid the margin-flags Closed in a bulrush-ark the babe is left, — Left by a mother's hand. His sister waits Far off; and pale, 'tween hope and fear, beholds The royal maid, surrounded by her train, Approach the river-bank ; approach the spot Where sleeps the innocent. She sees them stoop With meeting plumes: the rushy lid is oped, And wakes the infant, smiling in his tears, — As when along a little mountain lake The summer south-wind breathes a gentle sigh, And parts the reeds, unveiling, as they bend,
A water-lily lloating on the wave.
James Grahaine.
THE TRAVELLER AT THE SOURCE OF THE NILE.
IN sunset's light, o'er Afric thrown, A wanderer jiroudly stood Beside the well-spring, deej) and lone.
Of Egypt's awful flood,— The cradle of that mighty birth, So long a hidden thing to earth!
168 POEMS OF PLACES.
He heard its life's first murmuring sound,
A low, mysterious tone, — A music sought, but never found
By kings and warriors gone. He listened, — and his heart beat high : That was the song of victory !
The rapture of a conqueror's mood Rushed burning through his frame.
The depths of that green solitude Its torrents could not tame;
Though stillness lay, with eve's last smile.
Round those far fountains of the Nile.
Night came with stars. Across his soul
There swept a sudden change : E'en at the pilgrim's glorious goal, ■ A shadow dark and strange Breathed from the thought, so swift to fall O'er triumph's hour, — and is this all ?
No more than this ! Wliat seemed it now First by that spring to stand;
A thousand streams of lovelier flow Bathed his own mountain land !
Whence, far o'er waste and ocean track,
Their wild, sweet voices called him back.
They called him back to many a glade. His childhood's haunt of play,
Where brightly through the beechen shade Their waters glanced away;
NILE, THE RIVER.
1G9
Tlicy called liim, with tlicir sounding waves, Back to his father's liills and graves.
But, darkly mingling with the thought
or each familiar scene, Rose up a fearful vision, fraught
With all that lav between,— The Arab's lance, the desert's bloom, The whirling sauds, the red simoom !
Where was the glow of power and pride?
The sjjirit born to roam? His altered lieart within him died
AVith yearnings for his home ! All vainly struggling to repress That gush of })aiidul tenderness.
He wept ! The stars of Afric's heaven
Beheld his bursting tears. E'en on that spot where fate had given
The meed of toiling yr^irs ! 0 Happiness! how far we llee Thine own sweet paths in search of thee !
Fe/icia Urmans.
THE NILE.
OTHOU beneficent and l)onnteous stream ! Thou patriarch river ! on w liosc ample bn\'».st We dwelt the time that full at once could seem Of busiest travel and of softest rest:
170 POEMS OF PLACES.
No wonder that tliy being was so blest That gratitude of old. to worship grew. That as a living god thou wert add rest. And to itself the immediate agent drew To one creative power the feeUngs only due.
Tor in thy title and in Nature's truth Thou art and makest Egypt : were thy source But once arrested in its bubbling youth, Or turned extravagant to some new course. By a fierce crisis of convulsive force, Egypt would cease to be, — the intrusive sand Would smother its rich fields without remorse, And scarce a solitary palm could stand To tell, that barren vale was once the wealthiest land.
Scarce with -more certain order waves the Sun His matin banners in the eastern sky, Than at the reckoned period are begun Tliy operations of fertility:
Through the long sweep thy bosom swelling high Expands between the sandy mountain chains. The walls of Libya and of Araby, Till in the active virtue it contains The desert bases sink and rise prolific plains.
See through the naked lengtli no blade of grass, No animate sign, relieves tlie dismal strand, Such it might seem our orb's first substance was. Ere touclied by God with generative hand ; Yet at one step we reach the teeming land.
3^
NILE, THE RIVER. 171
Lying frosli-i^ropii l)oiio.'itli the scorcliiiig sun, As succulent as it' at its connnand It liekl all rains that fall, all brooks that run, And this, 0 generous Nile 1 is thy vast benisou.
AVhencc comest thou, so marvellously dowered As never other stream on earth beside? Where arc thy founts of being,, thus empowered To form a nation by thy annual tide ? The charts arc sihmt ; history guesses wide ; Adventure from thy quest returns ashamed ; And each new age, in its especial pride. Believes that it shall be as that one named, In which to all mankind thy birthplace was })roclaimcd.
Though priests upon thy banks, mysterious water ! Races of men in hjfty knowledge schooled. Though warriors, wiiming fame through shock and
slaughter, Sesostris to Napoleon, here have ruled : Yet has the secret of thy sources fooled The monarch's strength, the labors of the wise. And, though the world's desire has never cooled, Our practised vision little more descries Than old Herodotus beheld with simple eyes.
And now in Egyj)t's late degraded day, A venerating love attends thee still, And the poor fellah, from thee torn away. Feels a strange yeaniiug his rude bosom till; Like the remembered show of lake and hill,
173 POEMS or PLACES.
That wrings the Switzer's soul, though fortune smile, Thy mirage haunts him, uncontrolled by will. And wealth or war in vain the heart beguile That clings to its mud-hut and palms beside the Nile.
Lord Houghton.
A TRAVELLER'S IMPRESSION ON THE NILE.
WHEN you have lain for weeks together On such a noble river's breast. And learnt its face in every weather, And loved its motions and its rest, —
'Tis hard at some appointed place
To check your course and turn your prow,
And objects for themselves retrace You past with added hope -just now.
The silent highway forward beckons. And all the bars that reason plants
Now disappointed fancy reckons As foolish fears or selfish wants.
The very rapids, rocks, and shoals
Seem but temptations which the stream
Holds out to energetic souls,
That worthy of its love may seem.
But life is full of limits; heed not
One more or less, — the forward track
May often give you what you need not. While wisdom waits on turning back.
Lord Hoiiyldon,
NILE, THE RIVER. 173
TO THE NILE.
MYSTERIOUS flood, — tliat throup^h the silent sands Hast Aviindered, century on century. Watering the length of green Egyptian lands, "Wiiich ^vere not, but for thee, —
Art thou the keeper of that eldest lore,
Written ere yet thy hicroglyplis began, When dawned upon tliy fresli, untrampled shore The earliest life of man?
Thou guardest temple and vast pyramid,
Where the gray Past records its ancient spcecli ; But in thine unrevealing breast lies hid What they refuse to teach.
All other streams with human joys and fears
Kun blended, o'er tlie plains of History: Thou tak'st no note of man; a thousand years Are as a day to thee.
What were to thee the Osirian festivals?
Or ^Memnon's nuisic on the Theban ]ilain ? The carnage, when Cambyses made thy halls Ruddy with royal slain?
Even then thou wast a God, and shrines were built
Eor worship of thine own majestic flood ; Eor thee the incense burned, — for thee was spilt The sacrifleial blood.
174 POEMS OF PLACES.
And past the bannered pylons tliat arose
Above tliy pabns, tlie pageantry and state. Thy current flowed, cabnly as now it flows. Unchangeable as fate.
Thou givest blessing as a god might give,
Whose being is his bounty: from the slime Shaken from off thy skirts the nations live. Through all the years of Time.
In tliy solemnity, thine awful calm, Thy grand indifference of Destiny, My soul forgets its pain, and drinks tlie balm Which thou dost proffer me.
Thy godship is unquestioned still: I bring
No doubtful worship to thy shrine supreme ;
But thus my homage as a chaplet fling,
To float upon thy stream !
Bayard Tai/lor.
THE AWAKENER IN THE DESERT.
BESIDE the Nile, mid desert sands, A royal-looking lion stands, As yellow as the sand he treads, Or the Simoom that round him spreads.
A royal mantle's shaggy train
Waves round his breast, his ample mane ;
NILE, THE IlIVER. 175
A rovfil crown of passing sliow, His still liair, bristles on his brow.
He lifts his head and roars amain;
So wild and hollow is the strain,
It booms along the desert sand
And shakes the flood on Moeris' strand.
Stiffens the panther's roseate liide, Tlie fleet gazelle flics tcrriflcd ; Camel and crocodile ashore List to the monarch's angry roar.
Its echoes from tlie Tsile rebonnd, The Pyramids fling back the sound, The royal mummy, brown and weary. It wakes from out his slumbers dreary.
He rises in his narrow slirine, " Thanks, Lion, for that roar of thine ! Thousa\ids of years in sleep I 've i)assed, Awoke by thy loud roar at last.
"Long time I've dreamed away, ah me! Years fringed witli splendor, where are ye? "When victory's banners round me flew, Lion, th.y sires my eliariot drew.
•' High on a golden car I rolled. Its pole was bright with burnished gold. And spokes and wheels with jK-arls did shine; The town of a hundred gates was mine.
176 POEMS OF PLACES.
" This foot-sole too, now dry and spare. Trod on the black Moor's matted hair, On Indian's yellow brow was placed. On necks of children of the waste.
" And this right hand once swayed the world. Now with stiff byssus close enfurled; What yonder hieroglyphics tell This bosom bore and knew full well.
The tomb that now enshrines me here. With my own hand I helped to rear; I sat upon the spear-girt throne. My steward made the brickfields groan.
"My subject, the broad-bosomed Nile, E-ocked me on rapid keel awhile ; Long have I lain in deep repose, The Nile-stream yet as ever flows.
"Wliile I its Lord — " He said no more. Ceased had the Desert Wakener's roar. And sank again the monarch's head Down in the silence of the dead.
Terdinand Freiligrath. Tr. G. E. Shirley.
NAPOLEON IN BIVOUAC.
AWATCH-PIRE on a sandy waste Two trenches — arms in stack — A pyramid of bayonets — Napoleon's bivouac!
NILE, THE RIVER. 177
Yonder the stately grenadiers
01' Kleber's vanguard sec ! The general to inspect them sits —
Close by the blaze sits he.
Upon his Aveary knee the chart,
There, by the glowing heap. Softly the mighty Bonaparte
Sinks, like a child to sleep.
And stretched on cloak and cannon,
His soldiers, too, slecj) well, And, leaning on his musket, nods
The very sentinel.
Sleep on, ye weary warriors, sleep !
Sleep out your last hard fight ! Mute, shadowy sentinels shall keep
Watch round your trench to-night.
Let Murad's horsemen dash along !
Let man and steed come on ! To guard your line stalks many a strong
And stalwart Champion.
A !Mcde stands guard, who with you rode When you from Thebes marched back,
TVlio after King Cambyses strode, Hard in his chariot's track.
A stately ^Macedonian
Stands sentry by your line.
178 POEMS OF PLACES.
Who saw on Ammon's plain tlie crown Of Alexander shine.
And, lo ! another spectre !
Old Nile has known him well; An Admiral of Csesar's fleet.
Who under Csesar fell.
The graves of earth's old lords, who sleep
Beneath the desert-sands. Send forth their dead, his guard to keep.
Who now the world commands.
They stir, they wake, their places take
Around the midnight flame ; The sand and mould I see them shake
I'rom many a mail-clad frame.
I see the ancient armor gleam
With wild and lurid light; Old, bloody purple mantles stream
Out on the winds of night.
They float and flap around a brow
By boiUng passion stirred; The hero, as in anger, now,
Deep-breathing, grasps his sword.
He dreams ; — a hundred realms, in dream,
Erect him each a throne ; High on a car, with golden beam,
He sits as Ammon's son.
NILE, THE KIVER. 179
With tliousancl iliroats, to Avclcomc him
The glowing Orient erics, "While at his feet the fire grows dim.
Gives one faint flasli — and dies.
Ferdinand FreUhjrath. Tr. C. T. Brooks.
THE BATTLE OF THE NILE.
SHOUT ! for the Lord hath triumphed gloriously ! Uj)on the shores of that renowned land, Wlicre erst his mighty arm and outstretched hand He lifted liigh, And dashed, in pieces dashed the enemy ; — Ujion that ancient coast. Where Pharaoh's chariot and his liost He cast into the deep. Whilst o'er their silent pomp he bid the swollen sea to sweep ; Upon that eastern shore, That saw liis awful arm revealed of yore, Again hath he arisen, and op])oscd His foes' defying vaunt: o'er them the deep hath closed !
Shades of mighty chiefs of yore, Who triumj)hed on the selfsame shore : Amnion, who first o'er ocean's em])ire wide Didst l)id the bold bark stem the roaring tide; Sesac, who from the east to farthest west Didst rear thy pillars over realms subdued; And thou, whose bones do rest
180 POEMS or PLACES.
In the huge pyramid's dim solitude. Beneath tlie uncouth stone, Thy name and deeds unknown; And Philip's glorious son, With conquest flushed, for fields and cities won;
And thou, imperial Csesar, whose sole sway The long-disputed world at length confessed, When on these shores thy bleeding rival lay!
0, could ye, starting from your long, cold rest.
Burst Death's oblivious trance. And once again with plumed pride advance. How would ye own your fame surpassed. And on the sand your trophies cast. When, the storm of conflict o'er. And ceased the burning battle's roar. Beneath the morning's orient light. Ye saw, with sails all swelling white, Britain's proud fleet, to many a joyful cry. Ride o'er the rolling surge in awful sovereignty !
Calm breathed the airs along the evening bay.
Where, all in warlike pride, The Gallic squadron stretched its long array ; And o'er the tranquil tide With beauteous bend the streamers waved on high. But, ah ! how changed the scene ere night descends ! Hark to the shout that heaven's high concave rends ! Hark to that dying cry ! Whilst, louder yet, the cannon's roar
NILE, THE RIVKR. 181
Kc'souucls along tlic Kile's affrighted shore,
Where from his oozy bed, The cowering crocodile hath raised his head !
What bursting flame Lightens the long track of the gleaming brine !
From yon proud ship it came, That towered the leader of the hostile line! Now loud explosion rends the midnight air ! Heard ye the last deep groaning of despair? Heaven's fiery cope unwonted thunders 1111, Then, with one dreadful pause, earth, air, and seas arc still !
But now the mingled fight
Begins its awful strife again ! Through the dun shades of night Along the darkly heaving main Is seen the frequent flash ; And many a towering mast with dreadful crash Rings falling. Is the scene of slaughter o'er?
Is the death-cry heard no more ? IjO ! where the east a glimmering freckle streaks, Slow o'er the shadowy wave the gray dawn breaks.
Behold, O sun, the flood StrcM-ed with the dead, and dark with blood ! Behold, all scattered on the rocking tide. The wrecks gf haughty Gallia's pride ! But Britain's floating bulwarks, with serene And silent pomp, amid the deathful scene Move glorions, and more beaut ilul disi)lay Their ensigns streaming to thy orient ray.
182 POEMS OF PLACES.
Awful Genius of the land !
Who (tliy reign of glory closed) By marble wrecks, half hid in sand.
Hast mournfully reposed; Who long, amid the wasteful desert wide. Hast loved with deathlike stillness to abide; Or Avrappcd in tenfold gloom, 'From noise of human things for ages hid.
Hast sat upon the shapeless tomb In the forlorn and dripping pyramid;
Awake ! Arise ! Though thou behold the day no more That saw thy pride and i)omp of yore ; Though, like the sounds that in the morning ray
Trembled and died away Trom Memnon's statue ; though, like these, the voice Th:it bade thy vernal plains rejoice.
The voice of Science, is no longer heard; And all thy gorgeous state hath disappeared: Yet hear, with triumph, and with hope again. The shouts of joy that swell from thy forsaken main !
William Lisle Bowles.
CASABIANCA.
THE boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but he had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm, —
NILE, THE RIVER, 183
A creature of lieroie ])lood, A proud tliougli eliildlike form.
The flames rolled on, — he would not go
Without his fatiier's word ; That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
He called aloud, "Say, father! say.
If yet my task is done ! " He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.
" Speak, father ! " once again he cried,
" If I may yet be gone ! " And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flame rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt their bnath,
And in his Maving hair. And hooked from that lone post of death
In still yet brave despair;
And shouted but once more aloud,
"My father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, throuijh sail and bhroud,
Tlic wreathing fires made way.
They wraj)ped the ship in s|)lendor wild,
They cauijht tlie flag on liigh, And streamed above the gallant child
Like banners in the sky.
184 POEMS OF PLACES.
There came a burst of thunder sound, —
The boy — oh, where was he? Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strowed the sea !
With mast and helm and pennon fair.
That well had bonie their part,
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young faithful heart!
Felicia Remans.
THE DELTA OF THE NILE.
THE stream that late turned busy towns to isles Hath curbed its flood : again the landscape smiles The meads are full of flowers, the groves of birds, Through blooming clover stray the lowing herds; High waves the flax, the yellow lupm blows. Mid bright green leaves the ripening melon glows. The fellah, clad in blue loose-floating vest. Sings as he toils, with rude contentment blest. But chief from Delta's gardens Zephyr brings Luxurious sweetness on his balmy wings ; Tor there her head the golden lily rears. The soft-eyed violet sheds her odorous tears. While the red rose unfolds his musky breast. And wooes the hovering sylph to fragrant rest. The bright kingfisher skims the level stream. His wings of purple glittering in the beam; And when the sun goes down o'er Damiat's vales. Burst into song a myriad nightingales.
PIIIL.E, THE ISLAND. 185
Beauty in every form that meets the eye, Freshucss on earth, and splendor m the sky, Man's spirit scarce for Eden's bowers might pine. While scenes like these around him live and shine ; Land of hoar tombs ! dark home of Pharaoh's race ! Thou 'rt old in all things save sweet Nature's face.
Nicholas Michel I.
Phike, the Island.
THE ISLAND OF PIIIL.E.
TRANQUIL above the rapids, rocks, and shoals The Tivoh of Egypt, Phihc lies ; No more the frontier-fortress that controls The rush of Ethiopian enemies, — No more the Isle of Temples to surprise, With hierophantic courts and porticos, The simple stranger, but a scene where vies Dead Art with living Nature, to compose For that my pilgrimage a fit and happy close.
There I could taste without distress of thought
The placid si)lend()rs of a Nubian night,
The sky with beautiful devices fraught
Of suns and moons and spaces of white light :
While on huge gateways rose the forms of might,
Awful as when the people's heart they swayc^d,
And the grotesque grew solenni to my sight ;
186 POEMS OF PLACES.
And earnest faces tlironged the colonnade, As if they wailed a faith forgotten or betrayed.
There too, in calmer mood, I sent aflight My mind throngh realms of marvel stretching far, O'er Abyssinian Alps of fabled height, O'er deserts where no paths or guidance are, Save when, by pilotage of some bright star. As on the ocean, wends the caravan; And then I almost mourned the mythic bar That in old times along that frontier ran. When gods came down to feast with Ethiopian man.
Tor I remembered races numberless. Whom still those latitudes in mystery fold. And asked, what does the Past, my mouitress, YoY them within her genial bosom hold? Where is for them the tale of history told? How is their world advancing on its way? How are they wiser, better, or more bold, That they were not created yesterday ? Wliy are we life-taught men, why pooT ephemcrals they?
Lord Houghton.
PHILiE. •
0 NUBIAN moon, the silence, is it thine Which follows us by this enchanted shore; Haunting thy shadows' gloom as they incline Like basalt shafts prone on the ivory floor? A peopled silence, where old shapes divine
SAis. 1S7
In lonix proocssion pass each sculptured door. Nor wholly voiceless, for each riistliiii^ Mave, Trembling mimosa, and dim palmy crest, And the low zephyr lingerinf]; by his grave, "Who needed not its dark oblivious rest, Whisper — till every silent architi-ave. And stately pylon own the immortal Guest, And the wave bears it as its waters pour, Murmuring Osiris through the Cataract's roar!
Thomas Gold Jpp/efon.
Sais.
THE VEILED IMAGE AT SAIS.
A YOUTH, athirst for knowledge, (hot desire !) To Sais came, intent to explore the dark And hoarded wisdom of Egyptian priests. Through many a grade of mystery, hurrying on, Far, and more far. still pressed the inquiring soul. And scarce the IIieroj)hant could cool or calm The studious fever of impatient toil. **What," he cxchiimed, "is worth a part of Truth? What is my gain unless I gain the whole? Has Knowledge, then, a lesser or a more ? Is this — thy Truth — like sensual, gross enjoyment, A sum doled out to eaeli in all degrees. Larger or smaller, multii)li(d or minished ? Is not Truth one and indivisible ?
188 POEMS OF PLACES.
Take from the harmony a single tone,
A single tint take from the Iris bow.
And lo ! what once was all, is nothing — while
Fails to the lovely whole one tint or tone ! "
Now, while they thus conversed, they stood within A lonely temple, circle-shaped, and still ; And, as the young man paused abrupt, his gaze Upon a veiled and giant image fell: Amazed he turned unto his guide, — "And what Beneath the veil stands shrouded yonder?'*
" Truth," Answered the priest.
"And do I, then, for Truth Strive, and alone? And is it now by this Thin ceremonial robe that Truth is hid ? Wherefore ? '*
"That wherefore with the Goddess rests; 'Till I' — thus saith the Goddess — ' lift this veil, May it be raised by none of mortal bom ! He who with guilty and unhallowed hand Too soon profanes the holy and forbidden, — He,' says the Goddess — "
"Well?"
"'He — shall see Truth!'" " A rare, strange oracle ! And hast thou never Lifted the veil?"
" No ! nor desired to raise ! " " What ! nor desired ? Were I shut out from Truth By this slight barrier — " "And command divine," Broke on his speech the guide. "Ear weightier, son.
SAIS. ISO
Tin's airy gauze tlian tliy coiijocturos (loom, — Light to the touch, Icad-hcuvy to tiic conscience ! "
Tlie young man, tliouglitful, turned him to his lionie, And tlie fierce fever of tlic ^vish to know llobbed night of sleep. Upon his couch he rolled; — At midnight rose resolved — Unto the shrine !
Timorously stole the involuntary step — But light the bound that scaled the holy mjiII, And dauntless was the spring that bore within That circle's solenni dome the daring man.
Now halts he where the lifeless Silence slccj)s In the embrace of mournful Solitude ; — Silence unstirred, save by the hollow echo Answering his tread along mysterious vaults ! High from the opening of the dome above Came the wan shining of the silver moon, And, awful as some pale presiding god, Glistening adown the range of vaults obscure. In its long veil concealed the image stood.
"With an unsteady step he onward past. Already touched with violating hand Tlic Holy — and recoiled! A sliudder tlirillcd His limbs, fire-hot and icy-cold by turns, And an invisible arm did seem to pluck him Back from the deed, " C) mi.ser:ible man ! "What wouldst thou?" (Thus within tiic inmost heart Murmured the warning whisper.) " AVilt thou dare
190 POEMS OF PLACES.
The All-hallowed to profane? *May mortal-born
(So spake the oracular word) not lift the veil
Till I myself shall raise ! ' Yet said it not,
The same oracular word, ' Who lifts the veil,
He shall see Truth ' ? Behind, be what there may,
I dare the hazard — I will lift the veil" —
Loud rang his shouting voice — " and I will see ! "
"See!" A lengthened echo, mocking, shrilled again ! He spoke and raised the veil ! And ask ye what Unto the gaze was there within revealed ? I know not. Pale and senseless, at the foot Of the dread statue of Egyptian Isis, The priests beheld him at the dawn of day ; But what he saw, or what did there befall. His lips disclosed not. Ever from his heart Was fled the sweet serenity of life, And the deep anguish dug the early grave : "Woe, woe to him" — such were his warning words. Answering some curious and impetuous brain, " Woe — for she never shall delight him more ! Woe, — woe to him who treads through guilt to Truth!" Friedrich von Schiller. Tr. J. Merivale.
SAIS.
AN awful statue, by a veil half hid, At Sais stands. One came, to whom was known All lore committed to Etruscan stone, And all sweet voices, that dull Time has chid
TENTYRA (DENDERAH). 191
To silence no^v, ])y antique pyramid, Skirting the desert, heard ; and w liat the deep May in its dimly lighted chambers keep, Where Genii groan beneath the seal-bound lid. He dared to raise that yet uuliftcd veil With hands not pure, but never might unfold What there lie saw : madness, the shadow, fell On his few days, ere yet he went to dwell With Night's eternal people, and his tale Has thus remained, and will remain, untold.
Richard Chenecix Trench.
Tentyra (Dcndcrah).
TENTYRA.
WHAT yonder rises ? 'T is Tentyra's fane, That stands, like some dark giant, on the plain. Kival of Karnak, Edfou, stern and lone, It looks to heaven, its founder, date unknown. Its lofty portico and painted walls, Its snake-wreathed globes and dim resounding halls, Towers where ten thousand sculptured forms ye trace, Awe with their vastness, charm us with their grace. And this was Isis' dwelling, — still she stands Breathing from stone, with meekly lifted hands. Dark mother! to whom zeal these walls uprearcd. Whom monarrhs revoreiieed, and wln)m myriads feared, What wert thou, shrouded in thy silver veil.
192 POEMS OF PLACES.
That thus the ancient world should bend and quail?
Didst thou, as mortal beauty once adored,
Break by love's charm the sceptre and the sword ?
Wert thou a queen, and, when life's dream was o'er,
A goddess hailed to rule forevermore? —
Yain, mystic being ! will each effort be
To pierce the cloud that wraps thy age and thee,
Thy pompous rites as secret as thy birth.
Thy solemn worship passed away from earth.
Nicholas Michell.
Thebes.
THEBES.
WHO would not feel and satisfy this want. Watching, as I, in Karnak's roofless halls, Subnuvolar lights of evening sharply slant Through pillared masses and on wasted walls? Who would not learn, there is no form but palls On the progressive spirit of mankind. When here around in soulless sorrow falls That which seemed permanence itself, designed To raze the sense of death from out all human mind.
For near the temple ever lies the tomb, The dwelling, not the dungeon, of the dead, Where they abide in glorifying gloom. In lofty chambers with rich colors spread.
THEBES. r.J3
Vast corridors, all carved and decorated For eutcrtaiuineiit of their qliostly lord, AVIieii he may leave his alabaster bed, And see, with pleasure earth could scarce afford. These subterranean walls his power and wealth record.
Often 't was willed this splendor should be sealed Not only from pnjfane but j)riestly eyes, That to no future gaze might be revealed The secret palace where a Pharaoh lies, Amid his world-enduring obsequies; And though we, children of a distant shore, Here search and scan, yet much our skill defies; Oue chance the less, some grains of sand the more, And never had been found that vault's mysterious door.
Lord lloughtun.
THEBES.
TIIEBES, hearing still the Mcmnon's mystic tones, "Where Egypt's earliest monarchs reared their til rones. Favored of Jove ! the Imndred-gated f|ueen Though fallen, grand; thougii desolate, serene; The blood with awe runs coldly Ihrougli our veins, As we approach her far-spread, vast remains. Forests of pillars crown old Nilus' side, ()i)elisks to heaven high lift their sculptured pride; Kows of dark spiiinxes, swee|)ing far away. Lead to proud fanes, and toml)s august juj they. Colossal chiefs in granite sit around,
194 POEMS OF PLACES.
As wrapped in thought, or sunk in grief profound.
Titans or gods sure built these walls that stand
Defying years, and Kuin's wasting hand.
So vast, sublime the view, we almost deem
We rove, spell-bound, through some fantastic dream.
Sweep through the halls that Typhon rears below.
And see, in yon dark Nile, hell's rivers flow.
E'en as we walk these fanes and ruined ways.
In musings lost, yet dazzled while we gaze.
The mighty columns ranged in long array.
The statues fresh as chiselled yesterday.
We scarce can think two thousand years have flown
Shice in proud Thebes a Pharaoh's grandeur shone.
But in yon marble court or sphinx-lined street
Some moving pageant half expect to meet.
See great Sesostris, come from distant war.
Kings linked in chains to drag his ivory car;
Or view that bright procession sweeping on.
To meet at Memphis far-famed Solomon,
When, borne by Love, he crossed the Syrian wild.
To wed the royal Pharaoh's blooming child.
Here let me sit in Kaniak's gorgeous hall, Pirm as when reared each massy pictured wall : Yielding to meditation's calm control. How shrinks, in conscious littleness, the soul ! And as thought leaps the gulf that yawns between Past days and now, what is and what hath been, How brief, how petty human life appears ! A cloud that fleeteth as it rains its tears ; A puny wave on Time's vast ocean-shore.
THEBES. 105
That frets and foams, tlion melts to s^vcll no more. These ancient piles a liiglier moral tcaeli Than sage can write, or orator can preach: The heart grows humbler in a scene hke this, Yet soars above low schemes of transient bliss ; And while it sighs that man should waste his hours, Hearing such mighty fanes to unknown powers. Looks inward at the creed itself maintains, If born of heaven, or free from error's stains.
But musing thus, by wandering dreams beguiled, AVc half forget the fabrics round us piled,— Fabrics that breathe from every sculptured stone Awe and a solemn grandeur all their own. Dim vistas stretch, white columns yonder rise, And obelisks point, like flame, into the skies. There frown huge khigs in stone, — such frown they
wore When on their thrones three thousand years before; And one, the mightiest, Isis' arms entwine. Immortal deemed, and like herself divine. O, wondrous art ! yon granite roof behold ! Fair still the colors, glittering still the gold ; In azure skies, moons, clustering stars, appear, — Alas ! the cunning hand that traced them here ! But pass we altars and rich glorious things. Gigantic pillars, echoing halls of kings ; What sec we traced in outline? shadowy, dim, The very breathing face and sinewy limb, — 'T is Thothmes, he who bade the Hebrew groan. When hailstones fell and thunders shook his throne,
196 POEMS OF PLACES.
He to whom Moses spoke, tlie king who sped On wings of wrath when trembling Israel fled, Raised his bright sword, and drove his bickering car. Comet-like breathing terror from afar. Pursued his foe ado wn the lied Sea coast. Then sank engulfed with all his fiery host.
Nicholas Mlchell.
THEBES.
I SAW, as in a dream, the pride of Thebes. The hundred-gated walls in majesty Rose high above the meads where harvest grain Waved musical before the morning breeze. The strains of Memnon hailed the coming day. And sun-gilt wreaths of smoke curled slowly up Prom myriad hecatombs, as mystic rites Were offered at the shrines of Mizraim's gods. Lo ! winding through the wide champaign, and by The eternal Nile, Rameses victor came. Leading a veteran host, whose flaming arms Had roused Libanus' eagles, and had gleamed Upon the famed Hydaspes' amber tide. The royal pageant moved along the aisle Of solemn-featured sphinxes to Karnak, Until beneath the pillars lotus-crowned, A voice said, "W^elcome here, son of the gods."
Such once was Thebes. Meridian glory sheened Her battlements ere god-built Iliou fell. But now, ye who would vaunt yourselves in man.
THEBES. 197
Behold her desolation. Fate has \\-alked
"With hcarsc-likc shadow where the Pharaohs dwelt;
And now the summer sun diurnal flecks
"With rosy light deserted colonnades,
"Where sings the grasshopper his droning tune,
"Where dreams the desert's swarthy ehild, and bleats
The plaintive floek. The moon glides up the va\ih,
And her first rays illume the rugged brows
Of the Memnonium's marble men, who loom
Beneath that pallid light like giant ghosts
Above the haunted land; the owlet chants
Ilis wizard requiem o'er Karnak the lone.
The bat flits round amid the sculptured blocks,
And the sad night-whid sobs as it has wailed
For ages through the pylons hoar and gloomed.
Like ancient wood, whose river-shadowing trees, Stripped of their leafy crests by autumn gales. Stand dismal skeletons, and mouni their fate — Thus Luxor's grove of columns has looked dovni August with age these thrice ten hundred years, Upon the azure Nile, that rolls subHme, A mystery of mysteries, mIiosc founts Are sealed to mortal eye. A wilderness "Weaves o'er its flood arcades of sylvan green. Until it leaves its native wilds, and roams By empires long decayed, and cities left To the hyena's den. By Thebes it sweeps "With solitary grandeur towards tlic sea. But still its waves tlieir annual tribute brincr, And bless the parched wold with vernal bloom.
198 POEMS OF PLACES.
And pay obeisance at stern Memnon's feet, — The monarch grim of Thcbcs's solitude. Who to Imagination's ear yet sings The dirge notes of the nations as they die.
Seymour Green Wheeler Benjamin.
THE HERMIT OF THE THEBAID.
0 STRONG, upweUing prayers of faith, Trom inmost founts of life ye start, - The spirit's pulse, the vital breath Of soul and heart !
Prom pastoral toil, from traffic's din, Alone, in crowds, at home, abroad.
Unheard of man, ye enter in The ear of God.
Ye brook no forced and measured tasks. Nor weary rote, nor formal chains;
The simple heart, that freely asks In love, obtains.
Tor man the living temple is : The mercy-seat and cherubim,
And all the holy mysteries. He bears wath him.
And most avails the prayer of love, "Vyiiich, wordless, shapes itself in deeds,
THEBES. 109
Alul wearies licaveii for naught above Our conimoii needs,
"\Miif'h brinc^s to God's all-perfect will That trust of liis undoul)tiiiic eliild,
Whereby all seeming good and ill Are reconciled.
And, seeking not for special signs
Of favor, is content to fall "Witliin the providence which shines
And rains on all.
Alone, the Thebaid hermit leaned At noontime o'er the sacred word.
IVas it an angel or a llcnd Whose voice he heard?
It broke the desert's hush of awe, A human utterance, sweet and mild ;
And, looking up, the hermit saw A little cliild.
A child, with woiuler-widened eyes, O'erawed and troubled by the sight
Of hot, red sands, and brazen skies, Aud anchorite.
"What dost thou liere, poor nian ? No shade Of cool, green doums, nor grass, nor well,
Nor corn, nor vines." The hermit said : "With God I dwell.
200 POEMS OF PLACES.
"Alone with Him in this great cahn, I hve not by the outward sense ;
My Nile his love, my sheltering palm His providence."
The child gazed round him. "Does God live Here only ? — where the desert's rim
Is green with corn, at morn and eve. We pray to him.
"My brother tills beside the Nile His Uttle field : beneath the leaves
My sisters sit and spin the while. My mother weaves.
"And when the millet's ripe heads fall. And all the bean-field hangs in pod.
My mother smiles, and says that all Are gifts from God.
"And when to share our evening meal, She calls the stranger at the door,
She says God fills the hands that deal Food to the poor."
Adown the hermit's wasted cheeks Ghstened the flow of human tears;
" Dear Lord ! " he said, " thy angel speaks, Thy servant hears."
Within his arms the child he took,
And thought of home and life with men;
THEBES. 201
And all his pilgrim feet forsook Returned again.
The palmy shadows cool and long,
The eyes that smiled through lavish locks,
Home's cradle-hymn and harvest-song, And bleat of Hocks.
"O child!" he said, "thou tcachcst mc There is no place where God is not ;
That love will make, where'er it be, A holy spot."
He rose from off the desert sand, And, leaning on liis staff of thorn.
Went, with the young ciiild, hand in hand, Like night with morn.
They crossed the desert's burning line, And heard the palm-tree's rustling fan,
The Nile-bird's cry, the low of kiuc. And voice of man.
Unquestioning, his childish guide He followed as the small hand led
To where a woman, gcntlc-eved. Her distaff fed.
She rose, she clasjH'd her truant boy, She thanked the stranger with her eyes.
The hermit gazed in doubt and joy And dumb surprise.
202 POEMS OF PLACES.
And lo ! — with sudden warmth and light A tender memory thrilled his frame ;
New-born, the world-lost anchorite A man became.
"0 sister of El Zara's race,
Behold me ! — had we not one mother? " She gazed into the stranger's face ; —
" Thou art my brother ? "
" 0 kin of blood ! — Thy life of use And patient trust is more than mine ;
And wiser than the gray recluse This child of thine.
"For, taught of him whom God hath sent, That toil is praise, and love is prayer,
I come, life's cares and pains content With thee to share."
Even as his foot the threshold crossed.
The hermit's better life began ; Its holiest saint the Thebaid lost.
And found a man !
Jolm Greenleaf Whiiller.
SAHAEA, THE GEEAT DESEET.
Sahara,
CATO IN THE DESERTS OF AFPJCA.
NOW near approaching to the burnini? zone, To wanner, calmer skies tlicy journeyed on. The slackening storms the neighboring sun confess, The heat strikes fiercer, and the winds grow less, "Whilst parcliing thirst and fainting sweats increase. As forward on the weary way tliey went. Panting with drought, and all with labor spent, Amidst the desert desolate and dry, One chanced a little trickling spring to spy: Proud of the prize, he drained tlie scanty store, And in his helmet to the chieftain bore. Around, in crowds, the thirsty legions stood, Their throats and clammy jaws witli dust bestrewed. And all with wisliful eyes the liquid treasure viewed. Round the leader cast his careful look, Stendy, the tempting envied gift he took. Held it, and thus the giver fierce bespoke:
204 POEMS OF PLACES.
"And tliink'st thou then that I want virtue most! Am I the meanest of this Roman host ! Am I the first soft coward that complains ! - That shrinks, unequal to these glorious pains ! Am I in ease and infamy the first ! llather be tliou, base as thou art, accursed, Thou that dar'st drink, when all beside thee thirst." ' He said; and wrathful stretching forth his hand. Poured out the precious draught upon the sand. Well did the water thus for all provide. Envied by none, while thus to all denied, A Kttle thus the general want supplied.
Lucan. Tr. N. Rowe.
THE SPECTRE- CARAVAN.
'rp WAS at midnight, in the desert, where we rested -1- on the ground ;
There my Beddaweens were sleeping, and their steeds
were stretched around; In the farness lay the moonlight on the mountains of
the Nile, And the camel-bones that strewed the sands for many
an arid mile.
With my saddle for a pillow I did prop my weary head. And my caftan-cloth unfolded o'er my limbs was lightly
spread, While beside me, both as captain and as watchman of
my baud. Lay my Bazra sword and pistols twain a-shimmeriug
on the sand.
SAHARA. 205
And the stillness was unbroken, save at moments, by a cry
From some stray belated vulture sailing blackly down the sky,
Or the snortings of a sleeping steed at waters fancy- seen,
Or the hurried warlike mutterings of some dreaming Beddaween.
Wlien, behold! — a sudden sandquake, — and at ween
the earth and moon Rose a mighty host of shadows, as from out some dim
lagoon ; Then our coursers gasped with terror, and a thrill
shook every man, And the cry was "Allah Akbar ! 'tis the Spectre-
Caravan ! "
On they came, their hucless faces toward Mecca ever- more :
On they came, long files of camels, and of women whom tiiey bore ;
Guides and merchants, youthful maidens, bearing pitch- ers like Itebeeca,
And behind them troops of horsemen, dashing, hurrying on to ^Mccca !
More and more ! the phantom-pageant overshadowed all the plains,
Yea, the ghastly camel-bones arose, and grew to camel- trains ;
206 POEMS OF PLACES.
And tlie wliirling column-clouds of sand to forms in
dusky garbs, Here, afoot as Hadjee pilgrims, — there, as warriors on
their barbs!
T^Tience we knew the night was come when all whom
death had sought and found, Long ago amid the sands whereon their bones yet
bleach around, Rise by legions from the darkness of their prisons low
and lone, And in dim procession march to kiss the Kaaba's Holy
Stone.
More and more ! the last in order have not passed
across the plain, Ere the first with slackened bridle fast are flying back
again. Erom Cape Yerde's palmy summits, even to Babel-
Mandel's sands. They have sped ere yet my charger, wildly rearing,
breaks his bands !
Courage ! hold the plunging horses ; each man to his
charger's bead ! Tremble not as timid sheep-flocks tremble at the Hon's
tread. Eear not, though yon waving mantles fan you as they
hasten on ; Call on Allah ! and the pageant ere you look again is
gone !
SAHARA. 207
Patience ! till the morning breezes vr-dxc again your turban's ])liune;
Morning air and rosy dawning arc tlicir heralds to the tomb.
Once again to dust sliall daylight doom these "wander- ers of the night ;
Sec, it dawns ! — a joyous welcome neigh our horses
to the light!
Ferdhiand FreUiffrath. Tr.J. C. 'Mangan.
ALL o'er the harbor gf a-wandering go
MIRAGE.
gay with flags my restless eyes
But thine, with laughing glances, seek the plume that
droojis across my brow ! "Fain of thy deserts I would hear, while waves are
gurgling round the boat ; Come, paint uie something of the land from whence that
ostrich tuft was brought ! "
Thou wilt ? I shade my brow awhile beneath the hol- low of my hand :
Let fall the curtain of thine eyes; lo ! there the deserts' glowing sand !
The camping places of the tribe that gave me birth, thine eye discerns ;
Bare in her snn-scorehcd widow's weed around thee now Zahara burns.
208 POEMS OF PLACES.
Who travelled through the Liou-land? Of hoofs and
claws ye see the prints ; Timbuetoo's caravan ! the spear far on the horizon,
yonder, glints ; Wave banners ; purple through the dust streams out
the Emir's princely dress. And grave, with sober stateliness, the camel's head
o'erlooks the press.
In serried troop, where sand and sky together melt,
they hurry on ; Already in the sulphurous mist the lurid distance gulps
them dow^n. Yet by the riders' track too well ye trace the flying
onward host; Full thickly marked, the sand is strewn with many a
thing their speed has lost.
The first — a dromedary, dead — a ghastly milestone,
marks their course ; Perched on the bulk, with naked throats, two vultures
revel, shrieking hoarse. And eager for the meal delayed, yon costly turban little
heed. Lost by an Arab youth, and left in the wild journey's
desperate speed.
Now bits of rich caparisons the thorny tamarind bushes
strew ; And nearer, drained, and white with dust, a water-skin,
rent through and through;
SAIIAKA. 209
"Who 's he that kicks the pa]>in£:^ thing, and furious
stares witli (juiveriiii^ lidr It is tlie bhiek-haircd Sheik, who rules the land of
Biledulgerid.
lie closed the rear; tlie courser fell, and cast him off,
and lied away ; All panting to his girdle hangs his favorite wife, in wild
deray ; How flaslied her eye, as, raised to selle, at dawn she
smiled upon her lord ! Now through tiie waste lie drags her on, as from a
baldric trails a sword.
The sultry sand that but at night the lion's shaggy tail beats down.
The hair of yonder helpless thing now sweeps, in tangled tresses strown ;
It gathers in her flow of locks, burns u]) her sweet lips' spicy dew ;
Its cruel flints, with sanguine streaks, her tender drag- ging limbs imbrue.
And now the stronger Emir fails ! with boiling blood his pulses strain ;
His eye is gorged, and on his brow, blue glistening, beats the throbbing vein;
With one devouring kiss, his last, he wakes the droop- ing Moorish ehihl ;
Then flings himself, with furious curse, down on the red unsheltered W ikl.
210 POEMS or PLACES.
But she, amazed, looks round her: — "Ha! what sight? My lord, awake, behold !
The Heaven, that seemed all brazen, how like steel it glitters, clear and cold !
The desert's yellow glare is lost ! All round the daz- zling light appears, —
It is a glitter like tlie sea's, that with its breakers rocks Algiers !
" It surges, sparkles, like a stream ! I scent its mois- ture cool from hence;
A wide-spread mirror yonder gleams ! Awake ! It is the Nile perchance.
Yet no ! We travelled south, indeed ; — then surely 't is the Senegal !
Or, can it be the ocean free, w^iose billows yonder rise and fall?
" What matter ? still 't is water ! Wake ! My cloak 's
already flung away, — Awake, my lord ! and let us on — this deadly scorching
to allay ! A cooling draught, a freshening bath, with life anew
will nerve our limbs. To reach yon fortress towering high, that distance now
with rack bedims.
" I see around its portals gray the crimson banners,
waving, set ; Its battled ramparts rough with spears; its hold with
mosque and minaret;
SAHARA. 211
All ill its roads, with lofty masts, slow rocking, many a galley lies ;
Our travellers crowd its rich bazaars, and till its cara- vansaries.
"Beloved! I am faint with tliirst ! wake up I the
twilight ncars ! " — Alas ! lie raised his eye once more, and groaned — "It is
the desert's mocking glass ! A cheat, the play of spiteful ticnds, more cruel thau
the Smoom ! " — All hoarse He stopped : — the vision fades ! — she sank, the dying
girl, upon his corse !
— Thus of his native land tiie Moor in Venice Haven
oft would tell : On Desdemona's eager ear, the Captain's story thrilling
fell. She started, as the gond«jla jarred on the quay with
trembling ])n)w ; lie, silent, to the palace led the heiress of Brabant io. Ferdinand Freilif/raih. Tr. J. R. Chorlry.
THE MOys RIDE.
KlXn of deserts reigns the lion; will he through his realm go riding, Down to tlie lagoon he j)aees, in the tall sedge there lies
hiding. Where gazelles and eani(loi)anls drink, he crouches by
the shore; Ominous, above the monster, moans the quivering syca- more.
212 POEMS OF PLACES.
When, at dusk, tlie ruddy lieartlifires in the Hottentot kraals are glowing,
And the motley, changeful signals on the Table Moun- tain growing
Dim and distant, — when the Caffre sweeps along the lone karroo, —
When in the bush the antelope slumbers, and beside the stream the gnu, —
Lo ! majestically stalking, yonder comes the tall giraffe. Hot with thirst, the gloomy waters of the dull lagoon
to quaff; O'er the naked w^aste behold her, with parched tongue,
all panting hasten, — Now she sucks the cool draught, kneeling, from the
stagnant, slimy basin.
Hark ! a rustling in the sedges ! with a roar, the lion
springs On her back now. What a race-horse ! Say, in proudest
stalls of khigs. Saw" one ever richer housings than the courser's motley
hide. On wdiose back the tawny monarch of the beasts to-
ninrht will ride?
rixed his teeth are in the muscles of the nape, with
greedy strain ; Round the giant courser's withers waves the rider's
yellow mane.
SAIIAIIA. 213
"With a hollow cry of anguish, leaps and flics the tor- tured steed ;
See her, how with skiu of leopard she combines the camel's speed !
Sec, witli lightly beating footsteps, how she scours the moonlit plains !
From tlieir sockets start the eyeballs ; from the torn and bleeding veins,
Fast the thick, black drops come trickling, o'er the brown and dappled neck,
And 'the flying beast's heart-beatings audible the still- ness make.
Like the cloud, that, guiding Israel through the land
of Yemen, shone. Like a spirit of the desert, like a phantom, pale and wan, O'er the desert's sandy ocean, like a waterspout at sea, Whirls a yellow, cloudy culunni, tracking them where'er
they flee.
On their track the vulture follows, flapping, croaking,
through the air. And the terrible hyena, plunderer of tombs, is there; Follows them the stcaltliy panther, — Cape-town's folds
have known him well ; Them tlicir monarch's dreadful pathway, blood and sweat
full plainly tell.
On his living throne, they, quaking, see their ruler
sitting there, With sharp claw the painted cushion of his scat they
see him tear.
214 POEMS OF PLACES.
Kestlcss tlie giraffe must bear liim on, till strength and
life-blood fail her; Mastered by such daring rider, rearing, plunging, naught
avail her.
To the desert's verge she staggers, — sinks, — one groan
— and all is o'er. Now the steed shall feast the rider, dead, and smeared
with dust and gore. Tar across, o'er Madagascar, faintly now the morning
breaks ; — ■ Thus the king of beasts his journey nightly through his
empire makes.
Ferdinand TreiUgrath. Tr. C. T. Brooks.
SONG OF SLAVES IN THE DESERT.
WHERE are w^e going? where are we going, Where are we going, Rubee?
Lord of peoples, lord of lands. Look across these shining sands, Througli the furnace of the noon, Through the white light of the moon. Strong the Ghiblee wind is blowing, Strange and large the world is growing ! Speak and tell us wiiere w^e are going. Where are Ave going, Rubee ?
Bornou land was rich and good. Wells of water, fields of food, Dourra fields, and bloom of bean.
SAIIATl.V. 216
And tho palm-tree cool and green: ]i()niou land we sec no loncrer, Here wc thirst and here wc hunger, Here the Moor-man smites in anger : Where are we going, Rubce ?
When we went from Bornou land, We were like the leaves and sand, We were many, we are few; Life has one, and dci.lh has two: Whitened bones our path are showing, Thou All-seeing, thou All-knowing ! Hear us, tell us, where are we going. Where are we going, Rubce ?
Moons of marches from our eyes Boniou land beliind us lies ; Stranger round us day l)y day Rends the desert circle gray ; Wild the waves of sand are flowing, Hot the winds above them blowing, — Lord of all things ! — where are we going ? Where are we going, Rubce?
We are weak, but Thou art strong ; Short our lives, but Thine is long ; We are blind, but Thou hast eyes ; We arc fools, but Thou art wise ! Tliou, our morrow's pathway knowing Through tlie strange world n)und us growing, Hear us, tell us wliere are we going. Where are we going, Hubee ?
Jo/in Grecnleaf ir/iitticr.
21.6 POEMS OF PLACES.
THE SIMOOM.
IT comes, tlie blast of death ! that sudden glare Tinges witli purple hues the stagnant air: Fearful in silence, o'er the heaving strand Sweeps the wild gale, and licks the curling sand, While o'er the vast Sahara from afar E-ushes the tempest in his winged car : Swift from their bed the flame-like billows rise Whirhng and surging to the copper skies. As when Briareus lifts his hundred arms, Grasps at high heaven, and fills it with alarms; In eddying chaos madly mixt on high Gigantic pillars dance along the sky. Or stalk in awful slowness through the gloom. Or track the coursers of the dread simoom, Or clashing in mid air, to ruin hurled, Fall as the fragments of a shattered world !
Hushed is the tempest, desolate the plain, Stilled are the billows of that troubled main ; As if the voice of death had checked the storm. Each sandy wave retains its sculptured form : And all is silence, save the distant blast That howled, and mocked the desert as it passed; And all is soHtude, for where are they, That o'er Sahara wound their toilsome way? Ask of the heavens above, that smile serene. Ask that burnt spot, no more of lovely green. Ask of the whirlwind in its purple cloud. The des2rt is their grave, the sand their shroud.
Martin Farquhar Tupi)er.
SAHARA.
217
DESERT HYMN TO THE SUN.
UNDER the arches of the morning sky, Save in one heart, there beats no life of man ; The yellow sand-hills bleak and trackless lie,
And far behind them sleeps the caravan. A silence, as before creation, broods Sublimely o'er the desert soUtudes.
A silence as if God in heaven were still, And meditating some new wonder! Earth
And Air the solemn portent own, and thrill With awful prescience of the coming birth.
And Night withdraws, and on their silver cars
■Wheel to remotest space the trembling Stars.
See! an increasing brightness, broad and fleet. Breaks on the morning in a rosy flood.
As if He smiled to sec his work complete, And rested from it, and pronounced it good.
The sands lie still, and every wind is furled:
The Sun comes up, and looks upon the world.
Is there no burst of music to proclaim The pomp and majesty of this new lord":'
A golden truiiipet in each beam of flame, Startling tlie universe witli grand accord?
Must Earth be duiul) beneath the splendors thrown
Erom his full orb to glorify her own?
218 POEMS OF PLACES.
No : witli an answering splendor, more than sound
Instinct witli gratulation, slie adores. With purple flams the porphyry hills are crowned,
And burn with gold the Desert's boundless floors ; And the lone Man compels his haughty knee, And, prostrate at thy footstool, worships thee. »
Before the dreadful glory of thy face !
He veils his sight ; he fears the fiery rod Which thou dost wield amid the brightening space.
As if the sceptre of a visible god. ]{
If not the shadow of God's lustre, thou Art the one jewel flaming on his brow.
Wrap me within the mantle of thy beams,
And feed my pulses with thy keenest fire ! Here, where thy full meridian deluge streams
Across the desert, let my blood aspire To ripen in the vigor of thy blaze. And catch a warmth to shine through darker days !
I am alone before thee : Lord of Light !
Begetter of the life of things that live ! Beget in me thy calm, self-balanced might;
To me thine o\ati immortal ardor give. Yea, though, like her who gave to Jove her charms. My being wither in thy fiery arms.
Whence came thy splendors? Heaven is filled with thee ; The sky's blue walls are dazzling witli thy train;
SAHARA. 21!
Thou sitt'st alone in tlic Immensity,
And in thy lap the World grows young again. Bathed in such briglitness, drunken with the day. He deems the Dark forever passed away.
But thou dost sheathe thy trcnehant sword, and lean With tempered grandeur towards the western gate ;
Shedding thy glory with a brow serene,
And leaving heaven all golden with thy state :
Not as a king diserowned and overthrown,
But one who keeps, and shall reclaim his own.
Baijard Taylor.
K
ON THE DESERT.
LL around, To tlie bound Of the vast horizon's round, All sand, sand, sand — All burning, glaring sand —
On my camel's hump I ride, As he sways from side to side, W^itli an awkward step of pride. And his scraggy head uplifted, and his eye so long and bland.
Naught is near,
In the blear
And simmering atmosphere, Bnt the shadow on the sand, The shadow of the camel on the sand;
220 POEMS OF PLACES.
All alone, as I ride. O'er the desert's oeean wide, It is ever at my side ; It liaunts me, it pursues me, if I flee, or if I stand.
Not a sound,
All around.
Save the padded beat and bound
Of the camel on the sand,
Of the feet of the camel on the sand. Not a bird is in the air, Though the sun, with burning stare, Is prying everywhere, *
O'er the yellow thirsty desert, so desolately grand.
Not a breath
Stirs the death
Of the desert, nor a wreath Curls upward from the sand, From the waves of loose, fine sand, —
And I doze, half asleep, —
Of the wild Sirocs that sweep ""
O'er the caravans, and heap With a cloud of powdery, diisty death, the terror- stricken band.
Their groans
And their moans
Have departed, but their bones Are whitening on the sand — Arc blanching and grinning on the sand.
SAHARA. 221
0 Allah! thou art. great! Save nic from such a fate, Nor through that fearful strait Lead mc, thy basest servant, uuto the Propliet-land.
William Jl' el more Sluiy.
c
THE CARAVAN IN THE DESEUTS.
ALL it not loneliness, to dwell lu woodland shade or hermit dell. Or the deep forest to explore. Or -wander Alpine regions o'er; Por Nature there aU joyous reigns, And fdls with life her wild domains : A bird's light wing may break the air, A wave, a leaf, may murmur there ; A bee the mountain flowers may seek, A chamois bound from peak to peak ; An eagle, rushing to the sky. Wake the deep echoes with his cry; And still some sound, thy l»cart to cheer, Some voice, though not of man, is near. But he whose weary step hath traced Mysterious Afric's awfnl waste, Whose eye Arabia's wilds hath viewed, Can tell thee wliat is solitude ! It is, to traverse lifeless plains. Where everlasting stillness reigns, And billowy sands and dazzling sky Seem boundless as inlinity !
222 POEMS OF PL.VCES.
It is, to sink, with speechless dread, 111 scenes unmeet for mortal tread, Severed from earthly being's trace. Alone, amidst eternal space ! 'T is noon — and fearfully profound. Silence is on the desert round; Alone she reigns, above, beneath. With all the attributes of death ! No bird the blazing heaven may dare. No insect bide the scorching air; The ostrich, though of sun-born race. Seeks a more sheltered dwcUing-place ; The lion slumbers in his lair, The serpent shuns the noontide glare : But slowly Avind the patient train Of camels o'er the blasted plain, Where they and man may brave alone The terrors of the burning zone.
Faint not, O pilgrims ! though on high. As a volcano, flame the sky ; Shrink not, though as a furnace glow The dark-red seas of sand below ; Though not a shadow, save your own. Across the dread expanse is thrown ; Mark ! where, your feverish lips to lave. Wide spreads the fresh transparent wave ! Urge your tired camels on, and take Your rest beside yon glistening lake; Thence, haply, cooler gales may spring. And fan your brows with lighter wing.
SAHARA. 223
Lo ! ncarrr now, its prlassy tide Keflects tlie date-tree on its side — Speed on ! pure draughts and genial air And verdant shade await you tliere. Oil, ghnipse of heaven ! to him unknown, That hath not trod tlie burning zone ! Forward tliey press, they gaze dismayed, Tlie waters of tlie desert fade ! Melting to vapors that elude The eye, the lip, they vainly wooed. What meteor eonics ? — a purjile haze Hath half obscured the noontide rays: Onward it moves in swift career, A blush upon the atmosphere ; Haste, haste ! avert the impending doom, I'all prostrate! 'tis the dread Simoom! Bow down your faces, till the blast On its red wing of flame hath passed, Far bearing o'er the sandy wave Tlie viewless Angel of the grave.
It came, 't is vanished, but hath left The wanderers e'en of hope bereft ; The ardent heart, the vigorous frame, Pride, counige, strength, its power could tame; Faint with despondence, wdrn with to!l. They sink ui)on the burning soil, ]{esigned, amidst those realms of gloom, To tind their dcatli-bed and their tomb.
But onward still! — yon distant spot Of verdure can deceive you not ;
224 POEMS OF PLACES.
Yon palms, which tremulously seemed
Reflected as the waters gleamed.
Along the liorizon's verge displayed.
Still rear their slender colonnade, —
A landmark, guiding o'er the plain
The Caravan's exliausted train.
Eair is tliat little Isle of Bliss,
The desert's emerald oasis !
A rainbow on the torrent's wave,
A gem embosomed in the grave,
A sunbeam on a stormy day,
Its beauty's image might convey !
" Beauty, in Horror's lap that sleeps,"
While Silence round lier vigil keeps.
Rest, weary pilgrims ! calmly laid
To slumber in the acacia shade :
Rest, where the shrubs your camels bruise.
Their aromatic breath diffuse ;
Where softer light the sunbeams pour
Through the tall palm and sycamore ;
And the rich date luxuriant spreads
Its pendent clusters o'er your heads.
Nature once more, to seal your eyes,
Murmurs her sweetest lullabies ;
Again each heart the music hails
Of rustUng leaves and sighing gales,
And oh, to Afrie's child how dear
The voice of fountains gushing near !
Sweet be your slumbers ! and your dreams
Of waving groves and rippling streams !
Tar be the serpent's venomed coil
SAHARA.
225
Trom the brief respite won by toil: Par be the awful shades of those "VVho deep beneath the sands repose,— The hosts, to whom the desert's breath Bore swift and stern the call of death. Sleep ! nor may scorehing blast invade The freshness of the acaeia shade, But gales of heaven your spirits bless, With life's best balm, — forgetfulncss ! Till night from many an urn diffuse The treasures of her world of dews.
The day hath closed, — the moon on high Walks in her cloudless majesty. A thousand stars to Afric's heaven Serene magnificence have given; Pure beacons of the sky, whose flame Shines forth eternally the same. Blest be their beams, whose holy light Shall guide the camel's foo{stei)s right, And lead, as with a track divine, The pilgrim to his prophet's shrine ! — Hise ! bid your Isle of Palms adieu ! Again your lonely march pursue, AViiile airs of night are frcsldy blowing, And heavens witli softer beauty glowing. 'T is silence all ; tlie solemn scene Wears, at each step, a ruder mien ; Tor giant-rocks, at distance piled. Cast their deep shadows o'er the wild.
Darkly they rise, — what eye hath viewed
•e
236 POEMS OF PLACES.
The caverns of their solitude ? Away ! within those awful cells The savage lord of Afric dwells ! Heard ye his voice ? — the lion's roar Swells as when billows break on shore. Well may the camel shake with fear. And the steed pant — his foe is near; Haste ! light the torch, bid watchfires throw Far o'er the waste a ruddy glow ; Keep vigil, — guard the bright array Of flames that scare him from his prey ; Within their magic circle press, O wanderers of the wilderness ! Heap high the pile, and by its blaze. Tell the wild tales of elder days. Arabia's wondrous lore, that dwells On warrior deeds, and wizard spells ; Enchanted domes, mid scenes like these, Kising to vanish with the breeze ; Gardens, whose fruits are gems, that shed Their light where mortal may not tread. And spirits, o'er whose pearly halls The eternal billow heaves and falls. With charms like these, of mystic power. Watchers ! beguile the midnight hour. Slowly that hour hath rolled away. And star by star withdraws its ray. Dark children of tlie sun! again Your own rich orient hails his reign. "Tie comes, but veiled — witli sanguine glare Tincreinfir the mists that load the air;
SAHARA. 227
Sounds of dismay, and signs of flame, The approaching^ hurricane proclaim 'T is death's red banner streams on liii^di — - riy to the rocks for shelter! — fly! Lo ; darkening o'er the fiery skies. The pillars of the desert rise ! On, in terrific grandeur wheeling, A giant-host, the heavens concealing, They move, like mighty genii forms, Towering immense midst clouds and storms. "Who shall escape ? — with awful force The whirlwind bears them on their course. They join, they rush resistless on. The landmarks of the ])lain arc gone ; The steps, the forms, from cartli ellaced. Of those who trod the burning waste ! All Mhelmed, all hushed! — none left to bear Sad record how they perished there ! No stone their tale of death shall tell. The desert guards its mysteries well ; And o'er the unftithomed sandy deep, IVhere low their nameless relics sleep. Oft shall the future j)ilgrim tread, Nor know his steps are on the dead.
Felicia IIema)7S.
CENTRAL AND SOUTHERN AFRICA.
Bushme?i\s [Bosjesman^s) Country,
AFAR IN THE DESERT.
AFAU in tlie desert I love to ride, With tlie silent Bush-boy alone by my side : When the sorrows of life the soul o'ercast, And, sick of the present, I cling to the past; When the eye is suffused with regretful tears, From the fond recollections of former years ; And shadows of things that have long since fled riit over the brain, like ghost of the dead : — Briglit visions of glory, that vanished too soon; Day-dreams, that departed ere manhood's noon ; Attachments, by fate or by falsehood reft; Companions of early days, lost or left; And my native land, whose magical name Thrills to the heart like electric flame; The home of the childhood; the haunts of my prime; All the passions and scenes of that rapturous time
i
BUSHMEN'S (bosjesman's) countuy. 229
AVhcn tlic Icdiiigs were young iiiul tlio wurll was new,
Like the fresh bowers of Ecleu unfolding to view ;
All, all now forsaken, forgotten, foregone ;
And I, a lone exile, remL-nibered by none;
My high aims abandoned, my good acts undone,
Aweary of all that is under the sun ; —
With that sadness of heart which no stranger may scan,
I fly to the desert afar from man!
Afar in the desert I love to ride,
With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side :
When the wild turmoil of this wearisome life,
With its scenes of oppression, corruption, and strife;
The proud man's frown and the base man's fear,
The seorner's laugh and the sulferer's tear,
And malice, and meanness, and falsehood, and folly,
Dispose me to musing and dark melancholy; •
When my bosom is full, and my thoughts are high,
And my soul is sick with the bondman's sigh, —
Oh ! then there is freedom, and joy, and pride,
Afar in the desert alone to ride !
There is rapture to vault on the champing steed,
And to bouiul away with the eagle's speed.
With the death-fraught firelock in my hand, —
The only law of tiic desert land!
Afar in the desert T love to ride.
With tlie silent Bush-boy alone by my side:
Away, away from the dwellings of men,
By the wild deer's haunt, by the builalo's glen;
By the valleys remote where the oribi plays,
POEMS OF PLACES.
;re the gnu, tlic gazelle, and the liartebeest graze, /d the kudu and eland unhunted recline /y the skirts of gray forests o'erlmng with wild-vine IVhere the elephant browses at peace in his wood, And the river-horse gambols unscared in the flood. And the mighty rhinoceros wallows at will In the fen where the wild ass is drinking his fill.
Afar in the desert I love to ride. With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side : O'er the brown karroo, where the fleeting cry Of the springbok's fawn sounds plaintively. And the timorous quagga's shrill-whistling neigh Is heard by the fountain at twiUght gray ; Where the zebra wantonly tosses his mane, With wild hoof scouring the desolate plain; And the fleet-footed ostrich over the waste Speeds like a horseman who travels in haste, Hieing away to the home of her rest, Where she and her mate have scooped their nest, Far hid from the pitdess plunderer's view In the pathless depths of the parched karroo.
Afar in the desert I love to ride,
With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side :
Away, away, in the wilderness vast,
Where the white man's foot hath never passed.
And the quivered Coranna or Bechuan
Hath rarely crossed with his roving clan:
A region of emptiness, howling and drear.
Which man hath abandoned from famine and fear ;
busiimen's (bosjesman's) country. 231
Whicli the snake and tlie lizard inhabit alone, TYith the twiHf^ht bat from the yawning stone ; ^Vherc grass, nor liQi-b, nor shrub takes root, Save poisonous thorns tliat pierce tlie foot; And the bitter melon, for food and drink. Is the pilgrim's fare by tlic salt lake's brink: A region of drought, where no river glides, Kor rii)pling brook with osiered sides ; Where sedgy pool, nor bubbling fount, Nor tree, nor cloud, nor misty mount. Appears to refresh the aching eye; But the barren earth, and tlie burning sky, And the blank horizon, round and round, Spread, void of living sight or sound.
And here, while the night-winds round me sigh, And tlie stars bum bright in the midnight sky, As I sit apart by the desert stone. Like Elijah at Horeb's, cave alone, A still small voice comes through the Avild, Like a father consoling his fretful child. Which banishes bitterness, wrath, and fear, Saying, " Man is distant, but God is near ! "
Thomas Tringle.
23a POEMS OF PLACES.
Cape Colony,
M
THE LION-HUNT.
OUNT ! mount ! for the hunting with musket and spear :
CaH our friends to the field, for the Hon is near: CaH Arend and Ekhard and Groepe to the spoor; CaH MuHcr and Coetzer and Lucas Van Vuur.
Ride up Skirly-Cleugli, and blow loudly the bugle : CaH Slinger and Allie and Dikkop and Dugal; And Gert, with the elephant-gun on his shoulder; In a perilous pinch none is better or bolder.
In the gorge of the glen lie the bones of my steed, And the hoofs of a heifer of fatherland's breed ; But mount, my brave friends! if our rifles prove true. We '11 soon make the spoiler his ravages rue.
Ho ! the Hottentot boys have discovered his track, — To his den in the desert we'll follow him back; But tighten your girths, and look well to your flints, For heavy and fresh are the viHain's foot-prints.
Through the rough rocky kloof, through the gray
shaggy glen. By the wild-olive brake where the woK has his den, By mountain and forest, by fountain and vlei, We have tracked liim at length to the coverts of
Kei.
CAPE COLONY.
233
Mark that black bushy mound where the bloodhounds
are howlmg ; Hark ! that hoarse sullen sound like the deep thunder
growling; 'T is his lair, — 't is his voice ! — from your saddles
alight, For the bold skelm-beast is preparing for fight.
Leave the horses behind, and be stiU every man ; Let the Mullers and llennie advance in the van ; Keep fast in a elump;-by the yell of yon hound, The savage, I guess, will be out with a bound.
He comes! — the tall jungle before him loud crashing, His mane bristled fiercely, his fiery eyes flashing; With a roar of disdain he leaps forth in his wrath. To challenge the foe that dare 'leaguer liis path.
He crouches — ay! now we'll have mischief, I dread; Quick! level your rifles, and aim at his head; Thrust forward the spears, and unsheath every k"if^"; — St. George! he's upon us!— Now fire, lads, for life!
He's wounded! — but yet he'll draw blood ere he
falls : Ha ! under his paw see Bczuidonhont sprawls, — Now Diederik ! Christian ! right in the bniin Plant each man liis bullet : — hurra ! he is slain!
Bezuidenhout, — up, man ! 't is only a scratch (You were always a scamp, and have met with your match,) —
234 POEMS OF PLACES.
What a glorious lion ! — what sinews, what claws ! And seven feet ten from the rump to the jaws.
Come, oif with his hide. Why, his head 's like a
bull's (To the wise folks we '11 send it who lecture on skulls) : He has shown a good pluck, too, — and, after we dine. We '11 driuk to his dirge, boys, a flask of good wine.
Thomas Friiif/le.
GEN ABEND AL.
Genadkndal.ov the " Vale of Grace," is the chief Moravian settlenieut in South Africa.
IN distant Europe oft I 've longed to see This quiet "Vale of Grace"; to list the sound Of moaning brooks and mellow turtles, round The patriarch Schmidt's old consecrated tree; To hear the hymns of solemn melody, E-ising from the sequestered burial-ground; To see the heathen taught, the lost sheep found, The blind restored, the long-oppressed set free. All this I 've witnessed now, and pleasantly Its memory shall in my heart remain ; But closer and yet kinder ties there be. That bind me to this spot with grateful chain ; Tor it hath been a Sabbath home to me Through lingering months of solitude and pain.
Thomas Fringle.
CAPE OF GOOD HOPE. 235
THE ROCK OF ELKS.
DEEP in the forest lies hid a green dell, Where fresh from the Roek of Elks blue ^^•atcrs swell ; And fast by that fountain a yellow-wood tree, Which shelters the spot that is dearest to me.
Down by the streamlet my heifers arc c^razinp:; Prone o'er the clear pool the herd-boy is gazing; Under the shade my beloved is singing, — The shade of the tree where her cradle is swinging.
When I come from the hill as the daylight is fading, Though spent with the chase, and the game for my
lading. My nerves are new-strung, and my light heart is
swelling. As I gaze from the Rock of Elks over my dwelling.
Thomas Vrhujie.
Cape of Good Hope.
THE SPIRIT OF THE CAVE.
SPOKE ; — when, rising through the darkened air, Api)alled we Saw an hideous phantom glare; High and enormous o'er the flood he towered. And thwart our way with sullen aspect lowered.
I
23G POEMS OF PLACES.
All earthly paleness o'er liis cheeks was spread;
Erect uprose his hairs of withered red;
Writliiiig to speak, his sable lips disclose,
Sliarp and disjoined, his gnashing teeth's blue rows;
His haggard beard flowed quivering on the wind,
Kevenge and horror in his mien combined ;
His clouded front, by withering Ughtnings scarred.
The inward anguish of his soul declared ;
His red eyes glowhig from their dusky caves
SI lot Uvid fires ; far echoing o'er the waves
His voice resounded, as the caverned shore
With hollow groan repeats the tempest's roar.
Cold-gliding horrors thrilled each hero's breast;
Our bristling hair and tottering knees confessed
Wild dread; the while, with visage ghastly wan.
His black lips trembling, thus the fiend began : —
■^'0 you, the boldest of the nations, fired By daring pride, by lust of fame inspired; Who, scornful of the bowers of sweet repose, Through these my waves advance your fearless prows, llcgardless of the lengthening watery way. And all the storms that own my sovereign sway; Who, mid surrounding rocks and shelves, explore Where never hero braved my rage before; Ye sons of Lusus, who with eyes profane Have viewed the secrets of my awful reign. Have passed the bounds which jealons Nature drew To veil her secret shrine from mortal view : Hear from my lips what direful woes attend. And bursting soon shall o'er your race descend!
CAPE OF GOOD HOPE. 23?
"With every bounding keel that dares my rage Eternal war my roeks and storms shall wage ; The next proud fleet, that through my drear domain, AVith daring search, shall hoist the streaming vane, — That gallant navy, by my whirlwinds tossed, And raging seas, shall perish on my coast; Then he, who first my secret reign descried, A naked corse wide floating o'er the tide Shall drive. Unless my heart's full nii)tures fail, O Lusus, oft shalt thou thy children wail ; Each year thy shipwrecked sons shalt thou deplore, Each year thy sheeted masts shall strew my shore." * * »
He paused, in act still further to disclose A long, a dreary prophecy of woes; When, springing onward, loud my voice resounds. And midst his rage the threatening shade confounds : " Wl»at art thou, horrid form, that rid'st the airr By heaven's eternal light, stern fiend, declare ! " His lips he writhes, his eyes far round he throws, And from his breast deep, hollow groans arose; Sternly askance he stood : with wounded pride And anguish torn, " In me, behold," he cried, While dark-red sparkles from his eyeballs rolled, " In me the Spirit of the Cave beiiold, — That rock by you the Cape of Tempests named, By Neptune's rage in horrid earthf[uakes framed, "When Jove's red bolts o'er Titan's ollsijring ilamed. With wide-stretched piles I guard the pathless strand, And Afric's southern mound unmoved I stand ; Nor Roman prow, nor daring Tyrian oar.
238 POEMS OF PLACES.
E'er daslied the wliite wave foaming to my shore; Nor Greece nor Carthage ever spread the sail On these my seas to catch the trading gale ; Yon, you alone, have dared to plough my main, And with the human voice disturb my lonesome reign."
He spoke, and deep a lengthened sigh he drew, A doleful sound, and vanished from the view; The frightened billows gave a rolling swell, And distant far prolonged the dismal yell ; Eaint and more faint the howling echoes die. And the black cloud dispersing leaves the sky. High to the angel host, whose guardian care Had ever round us watched, my hands I rear, And heaven's dread King implore, — " As o'er our head The fiend dissolved, an empty shadow, fled; So may his curses by the winds of lieaven Par o'er the deep, their idle sport, be driven ! "
Luis de Camoens. Tr. IF. J. Mickle.
Guinea.
THE KING OF CONGO AND HIS HUNDRED WIVES.
F
ILL up witli bright palm-wine, unto the rim fill up The cloven ostrich-eggshell cup. And don your shells and cowries, ye sultanas !
GUINEA. 239
O, choose your gayest, gorgeousest array, As on the brilliant Beiram holiday
That opes the doors of your Zenaunas !
Come ! never sit a-trembling on your silk deewaums ! What fear ye ? To your feet, ye timid fawns !
See here your zones embossed with gems and amber ! See here the firebright beads of coral for your necks ! In such a festal time each young sultana decks
Herself as for the nuptial-chamber.
Rejoice ! — your lord, your king, comes home again ! His enemies lie slaughtered on the desert-plain. Ecjoice ! — it cost you tears of blood to sever From one you loved so well, — but now your griefs
are o'er : Sing ! dance ! He leaves his land, his house, no more, — Henceforward he is yours forever !
Triumphant he returns : naught seeks he now ; his
hand No more need hurl the javelin : sea and sand and land
Are his, far as the Zaire's blue billows Avander; Henceforth he bids farcMcll to spear and bal tie-horse, And calls you to his couch, — a cold one, for his corse Lies un the coj)[){'r buckler yonder !
Nay, fill not thus the harem with your shrieks! 'Tis he! lU-hold his cloak, striped, quagga-like, with bloody streaks 1
240 POEMS OF PLACES.
'Tis he! albeit liis eyes lie glazed forever midcr Their lids, albeit his blood no more shall dance along In rapture to the music of the tomtom-gong,
Or headlong war-steed's hoof of thunder !
Yes ! the Great Buffalo sleeps ! His mightiest victory
Avas his last. His warriors howl in vain, — his necromancers gaze aghast, — fetish, nor magic wand, nor amulet of darnel, Cau charm back life to the clay-cold heart and liirib. He sleeps, and you, his women, sleep with him! You share the dark pomps of his charnel!
Even now the headsman whets his axe to slay you at
the funeral-feast. Courage ! a glorious fate is yours ! Through Afric and the East Your fame shall be immortal ! Kordofan and Yemen With stories of your lord's exploits and your devoted-
ness shall ring, And future ages rear skull-obelisks to the King Of Congo and his Hundred Women!
Terdlnatid Treiligrath. Tr. J. C. Mangan.
KILIMANDJARO, THE MOUNTAIN. 2U
Kilimandjaro, the Mountain,
KILIMANDJARO.
HAIL to thco, monarch of African mountains, Remote, inaccessible, silent, and lone, — Who, from the heart of the tropical fervors, Liftest to heaven thine alien snows. Feeding forever the fountains that make thee Father of Nile and Creator of Egypt !
Tlie years of the world are engraved on tliy forelicad ;
Time's morning blushed red on tiiy first-fallen snows ;
Yet, lost in the wilderness, nameless, unnoted,
Of man unbeholdcn, tliou wert not till now.
Knowledge alone is the being of Nature,
Giving a soul to her manifold features,
Lighting through paths of the primitive darkness
Tlie footsteps of Truth and the vision of Song.
Knowledge has borne thee anew to Creation,
And long-bafiled Time at tliy baptism rejoices.
Take, then, a name, and be filled with existence,
Yea, be exultant in sovereign glory,
While from tlie hand of the wandering poet
Drops the first garland of song at thy feet.
Floating alone, on the Hood of thy making. Through Afric's mystery, sih-ncc, and fii-c, Lo! in my i)alm, like the Eastern enelianter, 1 dip from the waters a magical mirror.
242 POEMS OF PLACES.
And thou art revealed to my purified vision.
I see thee, supreme in the midst of tlij co-mates.
Standing alone 'twixt the earth and the heavens.
Heir of the sunset and herald of morn.
Zone above zone, to thy shoulders of granite,
The climates of eartli are displayed as an index.
Giving the scope of the Book of Creation.
There, in the gorges that widen, descending
From cloud and from cold into summer eternal.
Gather the threads of the ice-gendered fountains, —
Gather to riotous torrents of crystal,
And, giving each shelvy recess where they dally
The blooms of the North and its evergreen turfage.
Leap to the land of the lion and lotus !
There, in the wondering airs of the Tropics
Shivers the Aspen, still dreaming of cold :
There stretches the Oak, from the loftiest ledges.
His arms to the far-away lands of his brothers,
And the Pine-tree looks down on his rival, the Palm.
Bathed in the tenderest purple of distance.
Tinted and shadowed by pencils of air.
Thy battlements hang o'er the slopes and the forests.
Seats of the gods in the limitless ether,
Looming sublimely aloft and afar.
Above them, like folds of imperial ermine.
Sparkle the snow-fields that furrow thy forehead, —
Desolate realms, inaccessible, silent.
Chasms and caverns where Day is a stranger.
Garners where storeth liis treasures the Thunder,
The Lightning his falchion, his arrows the Hail !
KILIMANDJAUO, T 11 1: MOUNTAIN'. 243
Sovereign mountain, tliy Ijrotlicrs fjivo w.-lcjine: Th(\v, the baptized and the crowin'd of ai;es, IVateli-towcrs of eontinents, altars of earth, Welcome thee now to tli.ir mighty assembly. Mont Blanc, in the roar of his mad avalanches, Hails thy accession; superb Orizaba, Belted with beech and ensandalled with palm ; Chimborazo, the lord of the regions of noonday, — Mingle their sounds in magnificent chorus With greeting august from the Pillars of Heaven, Who, in the urns of the Indian Ganges Filter the snows of their sacred dominions, Unmarked with a footprint, unseen but of God.
Lo ! unto each is the seal of his lordship,
Nor questioned the right that his majesty givcth :
Each in his awful supremacy forces
Worsiiip and reverence, wonder and joy.
Absolute all, yet in dignity varied,
None has a claim to the honors ot story.
Or the superior splendors of song,
Greater than thou, in thy mystvry mantl;>d, —
Thou, the sole monarch of African mountains,
Pather of Nile and Creator of Egypt !
Biiijari^ Til If I or.
244 POEMS OF PLACES.
Madagascar, the Island.
MADAGASCAR SONG.
BENEATH the sliade of oraiigc-trees, Where streams with stilly murmurs run, 'T is sweet to breathe the fanning breeze, And watch the broad descending sun;
While youths and maids, a jocund throng, With measured tinkling steps appear.
And pour the sweet soul-lulling song, That melts and lingers on the ear.
How softly wild the maiden's lay
Whose pliant hand the rush-grass weaves ! But sweeter hers who drives away
The reed-birds from the ricen sheaves.
My soul is bathed in song; — the dance Is sweeter than the maiden's kiss.
As half-receding steps advance
To picture love's enchanting bliss.
Soft fall your voices, breathing kind The passion ne'er to be withstood.
As raptured gestures slowly wind.
To image pleasure's melting mood.
The gales of evening breathe ; the moon
Is glimmering through the leaves above:
Ah ! cease, dear maids, the mellow tune, And give the night to joy and love !
John Leyden,
SOUDAN. 245
Soudan.
THE riiiENIX.
WHEN over Kiger's banks is breaking Another century's morning star. The new-born Phoenix, first awakii g,
tar
Expands his purple pinions 1\ He gazes, from the mountain towers
On which his ancient eyry stands, Towards east and west, o'er cinnamon bowers,
And o'er the desert's arid sands!
He sees the red sirocco wheeling
Its sandy clouds along the waste, And streams through palmy valleys stealing,
Where the plumed ostrich speeds in haste. There waves the Moorish flag of battle ;
There sound at night the jackal's cries; There caravans are chased as cattle.
By storms that far beneath him rise !
Southward, he sees the Caffre rangers,
In gathering hordes, for light arrayed; Northward, the tents of hostile strangers
Are ])itehed beneath the fig-tree's shade! There swords arc red, where, far-extending,
Their squadrons combat on the sand, • And Erauce's battle-cries are blending
With those of Abdel Kadcr's band!
24G POEMS OF PLACES.
These views the Phoenix, troubled never
With War's wild rage, or Party's sway. But from his nest, with proud endeavor.
Pans their polluting dust away ! And still, where vales in sunshine brighten.
He gathers spices round his form, And bids his glorious pinion lighten
Above the thunder and the storm !
Ferdinand Freiligrath. Tr. B. Taylor.
TIMBUCTOO.
I STOOD upon the mountain which o'erlooks The narrow seas, whose rapid interval Parts Afric from green Europe, when the sun Had fallen below the Atlantic, and above The silent heavens were blenched with faery light. Uncertain whether faery light or cloud. Plowing southward, and the chasms of deep, deep blue Slumbered unfathomable, and the stars Were flooded over with clear glory and pale. I gazed upon the sheeny coast beyond. There where the Giant of old Time infixed The limits of his prowess, pillars high Long time erased from earth; even as the Sea When weary of wild inroad buildeth up Huge mounds whereby to stay his yeasty waves. An(^ much I mused on legends quaint and old, Which whilome won the hearts of all on earth Toward their briichtness, even as flame draws air;
SOUDAN. 247
But had their bcini^ in the heart of man,
•As air is the hfe of flame : and thou wert then
A centred glory-circled memory,
Divinest Atalantis, whom the waves
Have buried deep, and thou of later name,
Imperial Eldorado, roofed with gold :
Shadows to wliicli, despite all shocks of change.
All onset of capricious accident.
Men clung witli yearning hope which would not die.
:lf * *
Then I raised My voice and cried, "Wide Afrie, doth thy sun Lighten, thy hills enfold a city as fair As those which starred the night o' the elder world ? Or is the rumor of thy Timbuetoo A dream as frail as those of ancient time ? "
A curve of whitening, flashing, ebbing light ! A rustling of white wings ! the 1) right descent Of a young Seraph ! and he stood beside me There on the ridge, and looked into my face "With his unutterable, shining orbs, So that with hasty motion I did veil My vision with both hands, and saw before me Such colored spots as dance athwart tiie eyes Of those that gaze upon the noonday sun. Girt with a zone of flashing gold beneath His breast, and compassed round about his brow With triple arch of everclianging bows, And circled with the gh)ry of living light And alternation of all hues, he stood.
"O child of man, why muse you here alone
2i8 POEMS OF PLACES.
Upon tlie mountain, on the dreams of old Which filled the earth with passing lovehuess, Which flung strange music on the howHug winds. And odors rapt from remote Paradise ? Thy sense is clogged with dull mortality ; Open thine eyes and see."
* * *
Then first within the south methought I saw A wilderness of spires, and crystal pile Of rampart upon rampart, dome on dome. Illimitable range of battlement On battlement, and the imperial height Of canopy o'ercanopied.
Behind In diamond light upspring the dazzling peaks Of pyramids, as far surpassing earth's As heaven than earth is fairer. Each aloft Upon his narrowed eminence bore globes Of wheeling suns, or stars, or semblances Of either, showering circular abyss Of radiance. But the glory of the place Stood out a pillared front of burnished gold, Interminably high, if gold it were Or metal more ethereal, and beneath Two doors of blinding brilliance, where no gaze Might rest, stood open, and the eye could scan, Through length of porch and valve and boundless hall, Part of a throne of fiery flame, wherefroni The snowy skirting of a garment hung. And glimpse of multitude of multitudes That ministered around it — if I saw
SOUDAN. 219
Tlicsc tilings distinctly, for my lunnan brain Staggered beneath the vision, and thick night Came down upon my eyelids, and I fell.
With ministering hand he raised me up : Then with a mournful and ineli'able smile, IVhich but to look on for a moment fdled My eyes with irresistible sweet tears, In accents of majestic melody. Like a swollen river's gushings in still night Mingled with floating music, thus he spake:
" There is no mightier s])irit than I to sway The heart of man; and teach him to attain By sh:ulowing forth the Unattainable; And step by step to scale that mighty stair Whose landing-place is wrapt about with clouds Of glory of heaven.
♦ * ♦
"I am the spirit, The permeating life which courscth through All the intricate and hd)yrinthine veins Of the great vine of Fable, which, outspread With growth of shadowing leaf and clusters rare, Reachcth to every corner under heaven. Deep-rooted in the living sod of truth ; So that men's hopes and fears take refuge in The fragrance of its complicated glooms, And cool imiK'ached twilights. Child of man, Seest thou yon river, whose translucent wave. Forth issuing from the darkness, windeth through The argent streets o' the city, imaging The soft inversion of her tremulous domes.
250 POEMS OF PLACES.
Her gardens frequent with tlie stately palm,
Her pagods hung with music of sweet bells.
Her obelisks of ranged chrysolite.
Minarets and towers ? Lo ! how he passeth by,
And gulfs himself in sands, as not enduring
To carry through the world those waves, which bore
The reflex of my city in their depth.
O city ! O latest throne ! where I was raised
To be a mystery of loveliness
Unto all eyes, the time is wellnigh come
When I must render up this glorious home
To keen Discovery ; soon yon brilliant towers
Shall darken with the waving of her wand ;
Darken and shrink and shiver into huts.
Black specks amid a waste of dreary sand.
Low-built, mud-walled, barbarian settlements.
How changed from this fair city ! "
Thus far the Spirit: Then parted heavenward on the wing : and I Was left alone on Calpe, and the moon Had fallen from the night, and all was dark !
Alfred Tennyson,
TIMBUCTOO.
BEYOND the clime of Tripoly, and beyond Bahr Abiad, where tlie lone peaks, unconform To other liills, and with rare foliage crowned. Hold converse with the moon, a city stands
Wliich yet no mortal guest hath ever found. Around it stretch away the level sands
SOUDAN. 251
Into the silence : paiisin"^ in his course, The ostrich kens it from liis subject lands.
Here with faint longings and a subdued force Once more was sought the ideal aliment
Of man's most subtle being, the prime source Of all his blessings : here might still be blent
"VVhate'cr of heavenly beauty in form or sound Illumes the poet's heart with ravishment.
Thou fairy city, whicli the desert mound Encompasseth, thou alien from the mass
Of human guilt, I would not wish thee found ! PerclKince thou art too pure, and dost surpass
Too far amid the ideas rane^ed hinfli In the Eternal Reason's perfectness,
To our deject and most embased eye, To look unharmed on thy integrity.
Symbol of love, and truth, and all that cannot die. Thy palaces and pleasure-domes to me
Are matter of strange thought : for sure thou art A splendor in the M'ild: and aye to thee
Did visible guardians of the earth's great heart Bring their choice tributes, culled from many a miii ^
Diamond, and jasper, porphyry, and the art Of figured chrysolite : nor silver sliine
There wanted, nor the mightier power of gold : So wert thou reared of yore, city divine !
And who are they of blisses manifold, That dwell within thee ? Spirits of delight,
It may be spirits whose pure thoughts enfohl In eminence of being, all the light
That interpenetrates this mighty all,
252 POEMS OF PLACES.
And doth endure in its own beauty's right.
And oh, tlie vision were majestical To them, indeed, of column, and of spire.
And hanging garden, and hoar waterfall ! For we, poor- prisoners of this earthy mire,
See little; tliey the essence and the law Robing each other in its peculiar tire.
Yet moments have been, when in thought I saw That city rise upon me from the void.
Populous with men: and fantasy would draw Such portraiture of life, that I have joyed
In over-measure to behold her work. Rich with the myriad charms, by evil unalloyed.
Arthur Hall am.
TIMBUCTOO.
MUST I still live in Timbuctoo, Midst burning and shifting sands, In a small straw hut, near a foul morass, — When the earth has sweet green lands?
No breath of air, no song of a bird.
And scarcely the voice of man, Save the water-carrier's wailful cry.
As he plods to fill calabash-can.
No fruit, no tree, no herbage, nor soil Where a plant or root might grow,
Save the desert-shrub full of wounding thorns. As the lips of the camels know.
SOUDAN. 253
The main street steams with tlie caravans,
Tired oxen and camels kneel down ; Box, package, and bales, are sold or exchanged, —
And the train leaves our silent town.
The wliite man comes, and the wliite man goes, But his looks and his words remain ;
They show me my lieart can put fortli green leaves. And my withering tliouglits find ruin.
O, why was I born in Timbuctoo? —
Eor now that I hear the roar Of distant lands, with large acts in men's hands,
I can rest in my hut no more.
New life ! new hope ! and change !
Your echoes are in my brain; Farewell to my thirsty home,
I mnst traverse tlie land and main !
And can I, then, leave thee, poor Timbuctoo,
Where I first behekl the sky? Wliere my own loved maid now sleeps in the shade,
Where the bones of my parents lie !
Richard Ueiiqist Home.
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