 | Lays of Melpomene |  |
THE YANAR.
In orient land of wizardry and charms,
Spells, spirits and romance, there is a fire
Unchangeably eternal, and it burns
In undimmed brightness amid mountain snows
That hang white, pure, unmelting o'er the flame,
Which (saith the legend) suddenly appeared
To the meek prophet whom the princess saved
In childhood from his watery couch, and nursed
In all the science of the magic land,
To warn him of his bondaged nation's wrongs,
And light his spirit to supernal deeds.
Round that undying flame in beauty bloom
Roses in all their pride of fragrancy,
Diffusing o'er the flame such rich perfumes
As angels only may inhale and live;
And amaranthine flowers in clusters wave
Around it ever, while the genii hold
Their magic conclave 'mid the alcove there.
Spells, spirits and romance, there is a fire
Unchangeably eternal, and it burns
In undimmed brightness amid mountain snows
That hang white, pure, unmelting o'er the flame,
Which (saith the legend) suddenly appeared
To the meek prophet whom the princess saved
In childhood from his watery couch, and nursed
In all the science of the magic land,
To warn him of his bondaged nation's wrongs,
And light his spirit to supernal deeds.
Round that undying flame in beauty bloom
Roses in all their pride of fragrancy,
Diffusing o'er the flame such rich perfumes
As angels only may inhale and live;
And amaranthine flowers in clusters wave
Around it ever, while the genii hold
Their magic conclave 'mid the alcove there.
But, oh, methinks there is an holier fire
That burns yet richer incense, and a light
Brighter and lovelier than that o'er which
Men marvel as a thing beyond their power
To solve—a widowed heart's immortal love;
A Love, that followed gladly in the path
Its idol chose, unquestioning of the good
Or ill therein, and went unmurmuring on
Through want and weakness, wretchedness and woe,
Disease and weariness, and feared no wrong
Save one's unkindness and reproach; oft tried
Sorely and found unchangeable as truth;
A Love, that wedded pleasure, pride and mirth,
And turned in after-days to sadness, gloom,
And melancholy poverty with a smile
That nothing but his censure could displace.
That burns yet richer incense, and a light
Brighter and lovelier than that o'er which
Men marvel as a thing beyond their power
To solve—a widowed heart's immortal love;
A Love, that followed gladly in the path
Its idol chose, unquestioning of the good
Or ill therein, and went unmurmuring on
Through want and weakness, wretchedness and woe,
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Save one's unkindness and reproach; oft tried
Sorely and found unchangeable as truth;
A Love, that wedded pleasure, pride and mirth,
And turned in after-days to sadness, gloom,
And melancholy poverty with a smile
That nothing but his censure could displace.
The heart is Love's dear dwelling-place, and there
Around his throne pure thoughts and feelings high
Embodied spirits stand or kneel in deep
Devotion at the shrine of sweet content,
Fanning with dewy breath the incense-wreath
Of faithful worship, while the sun-beam eye
And angel feature of their lord respond
To the fond vows of unalloyed delight.
Around his throne pure thoughts and feelings high
Embodied spirits stand or kneel in deep
Devotion at the shrine of sweet content,
Fanning with dewy breath the incense-wreath
Of faithful worship, while the sun-beam eye
And angel feature of their lord respond
To the fond vows of unalloyed delight.
The icy look of stranger sympathy—
The blooming sweetness of young loveliness—
Tempest and sun-light and the storm and breeze
Are all alike to those who feel no hope
Of better time or season; all whose joys
Have perished in the wildest wreck of Fate.
The inextinguishable lamp of love,
That burns within the bosom ceaselessly,
Is lighted at the sepulchre of hope,
And doth derive its nutriment from pale
Misery's tears—the portress of the tomb.
The blooming sweetness of young loveliness—
Tempest and sun-light and the storm and breeze
Are all alike to those who feel no hope
Of better time or season; all whose joys
Have perished in the wildest wreck of Fate.
The inextinguishable lamp of love,
That burns within the bosom ceaselessly,
Is lighted at the sepulchre of hope,
And doth derive its nutriment from pale
Misery's tears—the portress of the tomb.
| Lays of Melpomene | |