 | Poems by Two Brothers |  |
67
EGYPT
“Egypt's palmy groves,
“Her grots, and sepulchres of kings.”
Moore's Lalla Rookh.
“Her grots, and sepulchres of kings.”
Moore's Lalla Rookh.
The sombre pencil of the dim-grey dawn
Draws a faint sketch of Egypt to mine eye,
As yet uncolour'd by the brilliant morn,
And her gay orb careering up the sky.
Draws a faint sketch of Egypt to mine eye,
As yet uncolour'd by the brilliant morn,
And her gay orb careering up the sky.
And see! at last he comes in radiant pride,
Life in his eye, and glory in his ray;
No veiling mists his growing splendour hide,
And hang their gloom around his golden way.
Life in his eye, and glory in his ray;
No veiling mists his growing splendour hide,
And hang their gloom around his golden way.
The flowery region brightens in his smile,
Her lap of blossoms freights the passing gale,
That robs the odours of each balmy isle,
Each fragrant field and aromatic vale.
Her lap of blossoms freights the passing gale,
That robs the odours of each balmy isle,
Each fragrant field and aromatic vale.
68
But the first glitter of his rising beam
Falls on the broad-bas'd pyramids sublime,
As proud to show us with his earliest gleam,
Those vast and hoary enemies of time.
Falls on the broad-bas'd pyramids sublime,
As proud to show us with his earliest gleam,
Those vast and hoary enemies of time.
E'en History's self, whose certain scrutiny
Few eras in the list of Time beguile,
Pauses, and scans them with astonish'd eye,
As unfamiliar with their aged pile.
Few eras in the list of Time beguile,
Pauses, and scans them with astonish'd eye,
As unfamiliar with their aged pile.
Awful, august, magnificent, they tower
Amid the waste of shifting sands around;
The lapse of year and month and day and hour,
Alike unfelt, perform th' unwearied round.
Amid the waste of shifting sands around;
The lapse of year and month and day and hour,
Alike unfelt, perform th' unwearied round.
How often hath yon day-god's burning light,
From the clear sapphire of his stainless heaven,
Bath'd their high peaks in noontide brilliance bright,
Gilded at morn, and purpled them at even!
From the clear sapphire of his stainless heaven,
Bath'd their high peaks in noontide brilliance bright,
Gilded at morn, and purpled them at even!
Begun C. T., finished A. T.
| Poems by Two Brothers | |