Shifting Scenes and Other Poems By J. Stanyan Bigg |
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AN INDIAN SUNSET. |
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 | Shifting Scenes and Other Poems |  |
106
AN INDIAN SUNSET.
Through the verandah came the laden winds
With spices and the breath of odorous gums.
The west was all aflush with the rich hues—
Azure and crimson, swart and sanguine gold,
And bickering saffron, as the day went down.
All the trees swam in sunset; all the boughs
Shook in swift spasms of fire, as every breath
Swept the balms off them; every copse and brake
Lay laden with the sweets of summer time;
And out from all the heats the evening came
Dispensing the cool blessing of the dews,
And gathering up into her dripping skirts
The fiery seeds of morrows yet to come.
With spices and the breath of odorous gums.
The west was all aflush with the rich hues—
Azure and crimson, swart and sanguine gold,
And bickering saffron, as the day went down.
All the trees swam in sunset; all the boughs
Shook in swift spasms of fire, as every breath
Swept the balms off them; every copse and brake
Lay laden with the sweets of summer time;
And out from all the heats the evening came
Dispensing the cool blessing of the dews,
And gathering up into her dripping skirts
The fiery seeds of morrows yet to come.
Like lightning in his cloud, the panther slept,
With all his spots reposing on their gold,
Save when some footstep of the coming night
Sent dusky shiverings down his tawny sides,
And sudden gleams of expectation to his eyes.
The lion slumbered in his leafy lair;
The tiger licked his paws; and the red eyes
Of the yet drowsy wolf just gleamed and broke
In lurid flashes on the deepening dusk.
Swooning with joy the sultry day down sank,
In gleaming hues of crimson—glory robes,
Shot through with streaks of purple and fine gold;
The heavens surged with saffron, with still depths
Of slowly-darkening amethyst, o'er which
Fell subtle flakes of fire, and floating pomps
Of ruddy clouds went by, and, dim with light,
Were banks with nebulous shores, within whose bounds
Bright skiffs of wondrous splendour swept the heavens,
And spirits of mist leapt out in light, like gods.
With all his spots reposing on their gold,
Save when some footstep of the coming night
Sent dusky shiverings down his tawny sides,
And sudden gleams of expectation to his eyes.
The lion slumbered in his leafy lair;
The tiger licked his paws; and the red eyes
Of the yet drowsy wolf just gleamed and broke
In lurid flashes on the deepening dusk.
107
In gleaming hues of crimson—glory robes,
Shot through with streaks of purple and fine gold;
The heavens surged with saffron, with still depths
Of slowly-darkening amethyst, o'er which
Fell subtle flakes of fire, and floating pomps
Of ruddy clouds went by, and, dim with light,
Were banks with nebulous shores, within whose bounds
Bright skiffs of wondrous splendour swept the heavens,
And spirits of mist leapt out in light, like gods.
And so the daily miracle went on:
The Sun built himself cities in the heavens,
And heaped them o'er with riches, pile on pile,
Pillar on pillar, street on flaming street,
Huge rolling domes, and pinnacles of gold,
Long corridors of far-retreating deeps;
Then, weary with his work, he seized his wand,
And at the magic touch the tottering towers,
Fretworks of silver, gleaming gates of gold,
Pillars, and rounded roofs, and shafts of light,
Tumbled in gorgeous ruin; till the prone
And squandered splendours, at his will supreme,
Turned into life fantastic, changed their shape,
And all the loosened glories burned and glowed,
Rolled into hills of gems, and craggy heights
Of purest amber; floated ships ablaze
Sailing down seas of purple; writhed like snakes
Suddenly caught within a forest of fire;
Bulged into argosies of gleaming wealth;—
Down the day sank; and all the glories went
In sullen lapsings of splendour, ebb by ebb,
Purple by purple, pomp by crowding pomp,
Till leaden windings of Lethe-streams, and swamps
Of gloom grew greening on the dusky verge
Of the on-coming darkness—on, and on,
Till Night came, like a stern dark Fate,
And brushed the busy pageantry away.
The Sun built himself cities in the heavens,
And heaped them o'er with riches, pile on pile,
Pillar on pillar, street on flaming street,
Huge rolling domes, and pinnacles of gold,
Long corridors of far-retreating deeps;
Then, weary with his work, he seized his wand,
And at the magic touch the tottering towers,
Fretworks of silver, gleaming gates of gold,
Pillars, and rounded roofs, and shafts of light,
Tumbled in gorgeous ruin; till the prone
And squandered splendours, at his will supreme,
Turned into life fantastic, changed their shape,
And all the loosened glories burned and glowed,
Rolled into hills of gems, and craggy heights
Of purest amber; floated ships ablaze
Sailing down seas of purple; writhed like snakes
108
Bulged into argosies of gleaming wealth;—
Down the day sank; and all the glories went
In sullen lapsings of splendour, ebb by ebb,
Purple by purple, pomp by crowding pomp,
Till leaden windings of Lethe-streams, and swamps
Of gloom grew greening on the dusky verge
Of the on-coming darkness—on, and on,
Till Night came, like a stern dark Fate,
And brushed the busy pageantry away.
| Shifting Scenes and Other Poems | |