 | The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield |  |
Now hurtled o'er the heavens, and the deep earth
Shuddered, and a thick storm of lava hail
Rushed into air to fall upon the world.
And low the lion cowered, with fearful moans
And upturned eyes, and quivering limbs, and clutched
The gory sand instinctively in fear.
The very soul of silence died, and breath
Through the ten thousand pallid lips unfelt
Stole from the stricken bosoms; and there stood
With face uplifted and eyes fixed on air,
(Which unto him was thronged with angel forms)
The Christian—waiting the high will of heaven.
A scene somewhat like this is depicted in “The Vestal,” a little work published, a few years since, and written by Dr Gray, then of Boston. But, while I am happy to acknowledge the pleasure I have derived from that elegant story, I must be allowed to say that the causes of the lion's submission are unlike. He cowers at the feet of the aged Christian in that work, because he sees an old master; here, he is made to submit on the well known principle familiar to naturalists, that, during any great convulsion of nature, the most savage animals forget their common animosities, and that the lion will not attack a man who steadily fixes his eyes upon him. Having formed the plan of the whole poem and finished a considerable portion of it previous to my first perusal of the “Tale of Pompeii,” I was unwilling to forego the scene I had conceived previous to even the knowledge of the publication of Dr Gray.
| The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield | |