 | The Poems of Mackenzie Bell |  |
50
THE CITY OF THE CID.
Burgos, the city of the Cid, all hail!
Thou standest in the plain of old Castile,
Fragrant with rare romance that still I feel,
Albeit no more is heard the clang of mail
Thou standest in the plain of old Castile,
Fragrant with rare romance that still I feel,
Albeit no more is heard the clang of mail
Within thy grass-grown streets. And round about
No hand of Change is working, and it seems
Thou art unaltered, throned in thronging dreams
Full of the sound of arms and warlike shout.
No hand of Change is working, and it seems
Thou art unaltered, throned in thronging dreams
Full of the sound of arms and warlike shout.
How grand is thy cathedral's gorgeous pile!
How quaint its frescoed front! These carven forms,
Here sculptured, had their life as many storms
Of care as ours throughout its weary while?
How quaint its frescoed front! These carven forms,
Here sculptured, had their life as many storms
Of care as ours throughout its weary while?
These images of saints within, whose life,
Judging but from their features, was all calm,
Had they than we more nearly reached that balm
Which Christians find the antidote of strife?
Judging but from their features, was all calm,
Had they than we more nearly reached that balm
Which Christians find the antidote of strife?
No! Life was then a darker, fiercer thing
Than now it is. For of a truth our lives
Are moulded by our faith. He only thrives
Whose faith is true of flight and strong of wing.
Than now it is. For of a truth our lives
Are moulded by our faith. He only thrives
Whose faith is true of flight and strong of wing.
And theirs, though firm, could never have been true,
Since it forbade the purest Light to shine
Which shows the truth on earth, that Light divine,
By which God wills that Man his course should view
Since it forbade the purest Light to shine
Which shows the truth on earth, that Light divine,
By which God wills that Man his course should view
51
And haply change if need be. Thoughts like these
Come as home fruit seen under alien skies,
As now I gaze around. Rich musings rise
While looking on thee, Burgos,—some which please,
Come as home fruit seen under alien skies,
As now I gaze around. Rich musings rise
While looking on thee, Burgos,—some which please,
And some which sadden. When at close of day
I stand in thy cathedral's solemn shades
Among its peerless chapels, naught invades
To break the sacred rest of aisle and bay.
I stand in thy cathedral's solemn shades
Among its peerless chapels, naught invades
To break the sacred rest of aisle and bay.
And more and more departs each common thought,
And more and more I feel my soul is stirred,
As if low music, sweet, though faintly heard,
To me new founts of gentle bliss had brought.
And more and more I feel my soul is stirred,
As if low music, sweet, though faintly heard,
To me new founts of gentle bliss had brought.
| The Poems of Mackenzie Bell | |