 | Old Year Leaves |  |
135
GIBRALTAR.
1880.
‘Sweet Seville’ has been sung—and Cadiz too
By Byron, for the beauty of her girls,—
Yet know I not that one hath given thy due
To thee on whose proud crest the cloud-wreath curls.
By Byron, for the beauty of her girls,—
Yet know I not that one hath given thy due
To thee on whose proud crest the cloud-wreath curls.
Let me attempt thy praise, then, for I know
That worthier pens will write of foreign towns,—
For now no place has praise with us, if so
It be mayhap a jewel of our Crown's.
That worthier pens will write of foreign towns,—
For now no place has praise with us, if so
It be mayhap a jewel of our Crown's.
‘Sweet Seville's’ Guadalquivir, famed in song,
Is nothing save a nearly stagnant stream.
The beauty of the Cadiz maiden throng
Exists,—but in a ‘poet's airy dream.’
Is nothing save a nearly stagnant stream.
136
Exists,—but in a ‘poet's airy dream.’
Here in Gibraltar all retains an air
Of honest truth. Odourless streets are clean,
And everything is made the most of, where
Man's art avails to soften down the scene.
Of honest truth. Odourless streets are clean,
And everything is made the most of, where
Man's art avails to soften down the scene.
The gardens of the Alameda, full
Of semi-tropic plants and shady trees,
Pleasant to lounge in their recesses cool
On summer eves to catch the soft sea-breeze.
Of semi-tropic plants and shady trees,
Pleasant to lounge in their recesses cool
On summer eves to catch the soft sea-breeze.
Yet great the toil and patience must have been
Before at last was made such rocky ground
To nourish shrub, or plant, or aught of green.
Cheering it is to hear the home-like sound
Before at last was made such rocky ground
To nourish shrub, or plant, or aught of green.
Cheering it is to hear the home-like sound
Of English tongues,—to see our cared-for men,—
Contrasted with the Spaniards wan and weak,
Guarding their posts, as they with eager ken
Look on our cannon, which have but to speak—
Contrasted with the Spaniards wan and weak,
Guarding their posts, as they with eager ken
Look on our cannon, which have but to speak—
137
To put their lines to rout. How lovely gleams
The Rock at sunrise! The grey looming clouds
Glow in the new-born light like glorious dreams,
While Shadow still the tranquil bay enshrouds.
The Rock at sunrise! The grey looming clouds
Glow in the new-born light like glorious dreams,
While Shadow still the tranquil bay enshrouds.
Ay, grim Gibraltar, thou indeed art fair!
And more than that, a place in which one may
Live with true home-like comfort, and a share
Of a good climate, brightening Life's dull day.
And more than that, a place in which one may
Live with true home-like comfort, and a share
Of a good climate, brightening Life's dull day.
| Old Year Leaves | |