 | Hours at Naples, and Other Poems |  |
AN EASTERN NIGHT.
Here the manguasteens swell—the magnolias bloom,
Chenaur-tree, banana and palm, shield Earth's flowers;
The tired musk-deer lie stretched 'neath the gum-tree's sweet gloom,
The rich Paradise-birds wing their way to the bowers!
Chenaur-tree, banana and palm, shield Earth's flowers;
The tired musk-deer lie stretched 'neath the gum-tree's sweet gloom,
The rich Paradise-birds wing their way to the bowers!
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The sweet winds whispering breathe while the faint twilight fades,
And the fire-flies are gleaming like gems thro' the trees,
And the humming birds'hues, shine like stars thro' the shades,
As they float to their cinnamon nests on the breeze!
And the fire-flies are gleaming like gems thro' the trees,
And the humming birds'hues, shine like stars thro' the shades,
As they float to their cinnamon nests on the breeze!
Flowers filled with all odours now scent the rich airs,
Where aloes, annanas, and orange-trees blow;
The fierce forest-kings slumber sound in their lairs,
Heaven above mirrored seems by a Heaven below.
Where aloes, annanas, and orange-trees blow;
The fierce forest-kings slumber sound in their lairs,
Heaven above mirrored seems by a Heaven below.
Bright glow the champaka
and pomegranate flowers,
Like stars that have fallen to Earth with a blush!
And the wild bulbul's strains are prolonged thro' these hours,
Till the zephyr streams by one rich musical gush!
Like stars that have fallen to Earth with a blush!
And the wild bulbul's strains are prolonged thro' these hours,
Till the zephyr streams by one rich musical gush!
Oh! how this deep beautiful music of night
Is stirring up echoes like spirits around—
Till the stars—those great, glorious Creations of Light—
Are listening like lovers to love's tenderest sound.
Is stirring up echoes like spirits around—
Till the stars—those great, glorious Creations of Light—
Are listening like lovers to love's tenderest sound.
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'Tis the time when blown roses commence their sweet reign,
'Tis the time when dew-diamonds light palm and pine bough,
'Tis the time when the Moon seems to weep o'er the Main,
Tears trembling with light, while Heaven's crown wreathes her brow.
'Tis the time when dew-diamonds light palm and pine bough,
'Tis the time when the Moon seems to weep o'er the Main,
Tears trembling with light, while Heaven's crown wreathes her brow.
'Tis the time when the Love-God, the arch Manmadin,
Fills the air with his arrows, his soul searching darts,
When the Moon through the Heavens doth her bright course begin,
Straight this God begins his, through young passionate hearts!
Fills the air with his arrows, his soul searching darts,
When the Moon through the Heavens doth her bright course begin,
Straight this God begins his, through young passionate hearts!
'Tis the time for sweet thoughts—all seems thinking around,
The stars float in the skies like deep warm reveries;
Nature seems e'en to shrink from a ray or a sound,
Silence broods o'er the groves, heavens, savannahs, and seas.
The stars float in the skies like deep warm reveries;
Nature seems e'en to shrink from a ray or a sound,
Silence broods o'er the groves, heavens, savannahs, and seas.
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'Tis a beautiful Night!—Oh! the Sun hath bequeathed
To the Moon his Sultana, all, all, but his blaze;
His Life, Being and Soul he hath burned in and breathed
Through the hush of an hour that requires not his rays.
To the Moon his Sultana, all, all, but his blaze;
His Life, Being and Soul he hath burned in and breathed
Through the hush of an hour that requires not his rays.
Oh! we hailed him with joy on his mighty noon-throne,
While the World, like his Worshipper, blush'd at his gaze,
And he trod through the Firmaments, lofty and lone,
Till all seemed to be lost in the burst of his blaze.
While the World, like his Worshipper, blush'd at his gaze,
And he trod through the Firmaments, lofty and lone,
Till all seemed to be lost in the burst of his blaze.
Oh! we worshipped him then—and we worship him now—
'Tis his Spirit walks Earth in the reign of this Night;
Our eyes saw his Noon-pomp—Day's Crown on his brow,
Now our Souls feel his Soul's flame, its strength, and its light.
'Tis his Spirit walks Earth in the reign of this Night;
Our eyes saw his Noon-pomp—Day's Crown on his brow,
Now our Souls feel his Soul's flame, its strength, and its light.
'Neath this shadowy Bannyan's green Forest of Bowers,
How sweet thus to commune with Nature and Night—
To pass in such place the Stars' exquisite hours,
Where those very Stars seem more o'erwhelmingly bright.
How sweet thus to commune with Nature and Night—
To pass in such place the Stars' exquisite hours,
Where those very Stars seem more o'erwhelmingly bright.
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The flamingoe hath folded the fires of his wings,
Their crimsoning shadows no more flush the fountain,
He is gone to his rest like all beautiful things,
Save the Stars and the Moon, with her throne on Night's Mountain.
Their crimsoning shadows no more flush the fountain,
He is gone to his rest like all beautiful things,
Save the Stars and the Moon, with her throne on Night's Mountain.
That Mountain of Darkness which still seems to rise
While our straining orbs strive to pierce Space with their gaze,
Yet reach but their glorious boundaries—the Skies—
Oh! one Night of Beauty! thou art worth endless days.
While our straining orbs strive to pierce Space with their gaze,
Yet reach but their glorious boundaries—the Skies—
Oh! one Night of Beauty! thou art worth endless days.
My heart now feels dying off into the Past
With its faint broken music—its Shadows, and Stars—
And I feel I could wish my dimmed Life but to last
While this Night is thick-rolling her thousands of cars.
With its faint broken music—its Shadows, and Stars—
And I feel I could wish my dimmed Life but to last
While this Night is thick-rolling her thousands of cars.
| Hours at Naples, and Other Poems | |