Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems By the Lady E. Stuart Wortley. In Three Vols |
 | I, II, III. |
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THE SINKING SUN. |
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 | Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems |  |
169
THE SINKING SUN.
The Sun is sinking—red he sinks among
His golden Paradise of cloud-wreathed bowers;
Oh! fairer hours than when from th' East he sprung—
Magnificent—though melancholy hours!
His golden Paradise of cloud-wreathed bowers;
Oh! fairer hours than when from th' East he sprung—
Magnificent—though melancholy hours!
Those clouds, like Coronation robes flung off
By some proud King—thick robes of tissued gold—
Or regal tyrian, or thick jewelled stuff,
Lie scattered far o'er Heaven's bright face—behold!
By some proud King—thick robes of tissued gold—
Or regal tyrian, or thick jewelled stuff,
Lie scattered far o'er Heaven's bright face—behold!
The Earth, and Air, and Heavens, in their broad cope,
Are stained with blood-red tint of deepest dye;
The gates of other worlds seem now to ope,
And pour on ours a strange resplendency!
Are stained with blood-red tint of deepest dye;
The gates of other worlds seem now to ope,
And pour on ours a strange resplendency!
170
Who praises pearl-crowned morning? She is fair,
But like the snow-wreath pale, near this broad fire:
Who can her smile with these rich tints compare,
That proudly blazon forth Day's funeral-pyre?
But like the snow-wreath pale, near this broad fire:
Who can her smile with these rich tints compare,
That proudly blazon forth Day's funeral-pyre?
Oh! Sunset-Hours! thus dyed with royal red,
Gorgeous, yet mournful, o'er our world do ye
A rich illustrious melancholy shed,
That ever seems its fitliest pall to be!
Gorgeous, yet mournful, o'er our world do ye
A rich illustrious melancholy shed,
That ever seems its fitliest pall to be!
| Queen Berengaria's Courtesy, and Other Poems | |