The Fall of the Leaf And Other Poems. By Charles Bucke ... Fourth Edition |
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| II. |
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| IV. |
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| VII. |
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| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
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| XIII. | XIII. |
| XIV. |
 | The Fall of the Leaf |  |
XIII.
O thou!—that turn'st thy fair yet furrow'd face,
Still towards the illuminating orb of day,
Like to a blooming heliotrope;—who round
The earth's proud surface wield'st thy constant course,
As round the sanctuary of her husband's bed,
The faithful matron,—loving and beloved,—
Travels the pilgrimage of life:—Oh! thou,
Whose sons and daughters are more fair than those
Of this terrestrial globe;—inhabitants,
Worthy thyself,—the sister of the sun,—
Whose splendid temple at rich Ephesus,
Built by the manual industry of kings,
Attest the glory of thine ancient reign.
When thou appearest in the ebony,
Each constellation beams with joy divine
Around thy splendid circle:—every star
Seems, as if listening to the tremulous note,
That, with harmonious melody, awake
Those forms aërial of infinity,
Which on th' electric fluid ride through space
From satellites to planets; thence to suns,
Circled by comets; and to systems vast,
Forming the volume of the universe,
To age eternal.—When thy mystic form
Eclipst appears, surrounding nations gaze,
In silent wonder:—stern Orion, who,
Like a huge giant, hangs his circling belt
And threatening sword, as if the concave wide
Were ruled by him:—Arcturus, and the gems,
That form the watery Pleiads;—and the star,
That burns with heat intense, behold thy form
—Darken'd—with terror; as if Nature's hour
For dissolution into space were come.
But as thou reassum'st thy wonted light,
More lovely in thy beauty, than when seen
First by the wise Endymion, who enjoy'd
Thy secret converse on the Syrian mount;
They gaze with awe, soon softening with delight,
And with charm'd hope resign their reign to thee!—
While the rude bear, revolving round the pole,
In one unvaried circle, and who ne'er
Bathes his wild forehead in the echoing main,
Beholds how firm thine influence enchants
The raging billows to their rocky beds,
From gulf of Ormus to the vast profound
Of old Atlantic:—constant in thy change!
Yet constant in thine influence, from month
To year, from year to cycle, and to age!
Still towards the illuminating orb of day,
Like to a blooming heliotrope;—who round
The earth's proud surface wield'st thy constant course,
As round the sanctuary of her husband's bed,
The faithful matron,—loving and beloved,—
Travels the pilgrimage of life:—Oh! thou,
Whose sons and daughters are more fair than those
Of this terrestrial globe;—inhabitants,
Worthy thyself,—the sister of the sun,—
Whose splendid temple at rich Ephesus,
Built by the manual industry of kings,
Attest the glory of thine ancient reign.
When thou appearest in the ebony,
Each constellation beams with joy divine
Around thy splendid circle:—every star
Seems, as if listening to the tremulous note,
That, with harmonious melody, awake
Those forms aërial of infinity,
90
From satellites to planets; thence to suns,
Circled by comets; and to systems vast,
Forming the volume of the universe,
To age eternal.—When thy mystic form
Eclipst appears, surrounding nations gaze,
In silent wonder:—stern Orion, who,
Like a huge giant, hangs his circling belt
And threatening sword, as if the concave wide
Were ruled by him:—Arcturus, and the gems,
That form the watery Pleiads;—and the star,
That burns with heat intense, behold thy form
—Darken'd—with terror; as if Nature's hour
For dissolution into space were come.
But as thou reassum'st thy wonted light,
More lovely in thy beauty, than when seen
First by the wise Endymion, who enjoy'd
Thy secret converse on the Syrian mount;
They gaze with awe, soon softening with delight,
And with charm'd hope resign their reign to thee!—
While the rude bear, revolving round the pole,
In one unvaried circle, and who ne'er
Bathes his wild forehead in the echoing main,
91
The raging billows to their rocky beds,
From gulf of Ormus to the vast profound
Of old Atlantic:—constant in thy change!
Yet constant in thine influence, from month
To year, from year to cycle, and to age!
Since first the penetrating eye of man
Beheld thee, rising o'er the balmy skirts
Of blooming Eden, thou art still the same;
And all now gaze on that, which Adam saw!
Adam and Moses, Thales, and the man
Who first taught Nature to th' astonish'd sons
Of western regions.—Oh! transporting thought!
To think that these unhallow'd eyes have seen
What Adam, Moses, and great Newton saw!
Beheld thee, rising o'er the balmy skirts
Of blooming Eden, thou art still the same;
And all now gaze on that, which Adam saw!
Adam and Moses, Thales, and the man
Who first taught Nature to th' astonish'd sons
Of western regions.—Oh! transporting thought!
To think that these unhallow'd eyes have seen
What Adam, Moses, and great Newton saw!
| The Fall of the Leaf | |