 | Hours at Naples, and Other Poems |  |
303
MANUEL TO INEZ.
Oh! tell not me of burning hearts intense
That beat where Indian suns their beams dispense,
Of Afric's glowing souls and bursting veins—
The passionate natives of Numidian plains.
That beat where Indian suns their beams dispense,
Of Afric's glowing souls and bursting veins—
The passionate natives of Numidian plains.
My spirit is a wild and fiery zone,
Where shines the Sun of Love on his own throne;
I have a burning India, in my thought,
With Passion's kindling ardours all o'erfraught;
Where shines the Sun of Love on his own throne;
I have a burning India, in my thought,
With Passion's kindling ardours all o'erfraught;
I have within my mind, clear, changeless, bright,
A sultry Midsummer of cloudless light;
I have a torrid Clime for my Soul's part—
And oh! a thousand Tropics at my Heart!
A sultry Midsummer of cloudless light;
I have a torrid Clime for my Soul's part—
And oh! a thousand Tropics at my Heart!
| Hours at Naples, and Other Poems | |