Old Year Leaves Being Old Verses Revised: By H. T. Mackenzie Bell ... New Edition |
 |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
|
THE ESCORIAL, 1879. |
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | Old Year Leaves |  |
113
THE ESCORIAL, 1879.
[_]
The Escorial, a glooming pile, standing at the foot of the Guadarrama range of mountains, is the burial-place of the Spanish Kings, and it is so vast that it looks imposing even amid natural grandeur.
How sternly the Escorial stands,—
The burial-place of kings,
Who at disloyal Death's commands
Must leave their princely things,
The burial-place of kings,
Who at disloyal Death's commands
Must leave their princely things,
And hie to this stupendous pile,
That looks so cold and lone,—
Where nature scarcely dares to smile,
And verdure seems unknown,—
That looks so cold and lone,—
Where nature scarcely dares to smile,
And verdure seems unknown,—
114
To this sad spot where Summer's glare
Beats fiercest and most strong,—
Where swooping from his mountain lair
Winter abideth long.
Beats fiercest and most strong,—
Where swooping from his mountain lair
Winter abideth long.
Ah, yes, it must be change indeed
From grandeur such as theirs
To such a spot to come with speed,
To be Corruption's heirs.
From grandeur such as theirs
To such a spot to come with speed,
To be Corruption's heirs.
For evermore to lay aside
Insignia of power,—
All-humbled stately monarch pride
In death's still awful hour.
Insignia of power,—
All-humbled stately monarch pride
In death's still awful hour.
And yet 'twere better thus to be
Entombed 'mid marble walls,
Where even his foot who comes to see
In seeming reverence falls,
Entombed 'mid marble walls,
115
In seeming reverence falls,
Than to be huddled with the rest
In some dank burial-ground,
Where in a few years' time at best
One's place could not be found.
In some dank burial-ground,
Where in a few years' time at best
One's place could not be found.
Men prate that Nature ne'er obtains
Her long-predestined dues,
And show that we with mighty pains
Should alter all our views
Her long-predestined dues,
And show that we with mighty pains
Should alter all our views
On points of sepulchre. For me,
Though o'er it fall Oblivion's frost,
I trust for aye my grave shall be
Neither disturbed nor lost.
Though o'er it fall Oblivion's frost,
I trust for aye my grave shall be
Neither disturbed nor lost.
| Old Year Leaves | |