 | The Poems of Mackenzie Bell |  |
A SUMMER EVENTIDE.
I.—In the Country.
'Tis twilight's brief enchanting hour,
The sun has lost his torrid power,
Yet keeps enough of might to fling
Sweet magic over everything.
'Tis not the beauty that you see
At sunset on an English lea.
'Tis beauty all intensified,
As if the Day-King in his pride
Ordains that where his power is shown,
His gifts of beauty shall be known.
The sun has lost his torrid power,
Yet keeps enough of might to fling
Sweet magic over everything.
48
At sunset on an English lea.
'Tis beauty all intensified,
As if the Day-King in his pride
Ordains that where his power is shown,
His gifts of beauty shall be known.
The noon-tide glow which all things steep
In dreamless lethargy—the sleep
Of busy Nature now is past,
And all things are reviving fast.
The birds arouse themselves ere long,
And sing a cheerful vesper song.
The peasant takes his evening round
To view his much-loved plot of ground,
To find by scrutinising gaze
How fare his olives, vines or maize.
In dreamless lethargy—the sleep
Of busy Nature now is past,
And all things are reviving fast.
The birds arouse themselves ere long,
And sing a cheerful vesper song.
The peasant takes his evening round
To view his much-loved plot of ground,
To find by scrutinising gaze
How fare his olives, vines or maize.
II.—In the City.
[_]
Palacio is a word applied to a mansion belonging to an ancient noble family. Plaza is the name given to a large square.
Here in the city's roseal air
People are moving everywhere
With jest, or laugh, or snatch of song,
Through square, through street, a changeful throng.
And gentle ladies now appear,
Graciously bending down to hear
The honeyed nothings, soft and slow,
Spoken by lovers from below;
Each feigns bewitching bland surprise
At praises of her lips or eyes.
People are moving everywhere
With jest, or laugh, or snatch of song,
Through square, through street, a changeful throng.
49
Graciously bending down to hear
The honeyed nothings, soft and slow,
Spoken by lovers from below;
Each feigns bewitching bland surprise
At praises of her lips or eyes.
See yon palacio, grey and cold,
Proud of his lineage, high and old,
As he who owns it. Full and plain,
Like many another such in Spain,
From its carved windows you may see
The chiefest plaza's revelry.
And yet upon the other side
Stretches a garden beautified
By fountains clear, and still retreats,
By terraced walks, and shady seats,
And all the loveliness that Art
In generous climates can impart.
Now the moon rises, flinging far
Her silvery flood of mellow light,
And darkness can no longer mar
The peerless loveliness of Night.
That palm, which crowns yon neighbouring hill,
Stands out, majestic, tall, and still;
White gleam the city walls, and now
Fall shadows from each olive bough,
While clear against a starry sky
Coldly the distant mountains lie.
Proud of his lineage, high and old,
As he who owns it. Full and plain,
Like many another such in Spain,
From its carved windows you may see
The chiefest plaza's revelry.
And yet upon the other side
Stretches a garden beautified
By fountains clear, and still retreats,
By terraced walks, and shady seats,
And all the loveliness that Art
In generous climates can impart.
Now the moon rises, flinging far
Her silvery flood of mellow light,
And darkness can no longer mar
The peerless loveliness of Night.
That palm, which crowns yon neighbouring hill,
Stands out, majestic, tall, and still;
White gleam the city walls, and now
Fall shadows from each olive bough,
While clear against a starry sky
Coldly the distant mountains lie.
| The Poems of Mackenzie Bell | |