Tales in Verse for Young People :: :: University of Virginia Library

To tell us of those regions stern,
Covered with frost and snow,
Where not the hardy fur can bear
The bitter cold of that northern air—
'Mong the dwarfish Esquimaux!

Or where, on the high and snowy ridge
Of the Dofrine mountains cold,
The patient rein-deer draws the sledge,
With rattling hoofs, along the ledge
Of mountains wild and old!

186

Or, if that ancient traveller
Had gone o'er the hills of Spain,
Of other scenes he would proudly speak
Than icy seas and mountains bleak,
And a weary way of pain.

He would tell of green and sunny vales,
Thick woods and waters clear,
Of singing birds, and summer skies,
And peasant girls with merry eyes,
And the dark-browed muleteer!

Or, think if he had been at Rome,
And in St Peter's stood,
And seen each venerable place,
Built when the old, heroic race
Of Rome was great and good!

And more, if he had voyaged o'er
The bright-blue Grecian sea,
'Mong isles where the white-lily grows,
And the gum-cistus and the rose,
The bay and olive tree!

187

And had felt on old Parnassus' top
The pleasant breezes blow;
In Athens dwelt a long, long time,
And noted all of that fair clime,
Which we so long to know.

And then, as he grew old and wise,
He should go to Palestine,
And in the Holy City dwell,
Till, like his home, he knew it well,
With the Bible, line by line.

He should have stood on Lebanon,
Beneath the cedar's shade;
And, with a meek and holy heart,
On the Mount of Olives sat apart,
And by the Jordan strayed.

And have travelled on where Babylon
Lay like a desert heap,
Where the pale hyacinth grows alone,
And where beneath the ruined stone
The bright, green lizards creep!

188

And if, the great world round about,
Through flowery Hindostan,
To the Western World, to the Southern Cape,
Where dwell the zebra and the ape,
Had gone this pleasant man.

What tales he would tell on winter nights
Of Indian hunters grim,
As they sit in the pine-bark wigwam's bound,
While the hungry wolf is barking round,
In the midnight forest dim!

Or how they meet by the council fire,
Wearing the hen-hawk's feather,
To hear some famous Sagum's “talk,”
To see them bury the tomehawk
And smoke the pipe together.

Or of the bloody Indian wars,
When 'neath each forest tree
Was done some fell deed of affright,
And the war-whoop rang at dead of night,
Through the wild woods dismally.

189

He would tell of dim and savage coasts,
Of shipwrecks dark and dread;
Of coral-reefs in sleeping seas;
Of bright isles in the Hesperides—
And more than we have read.

And oh, that such old man were here,
With his wise and travelled look,
With thought, like deep, exhaustless springs,
And a memory full of wondrous things,
Like a glorious picture-book!