Poems By John Moultrie. New ed |
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SUNSET IN ARRAN.
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 | Poems |  |
272
SUNSET IN ARRAN.
The Sun had vanish'd to his rest
Behind the mountains yesterday,
Whose towering ridge shuts out the west
With all its dyes from Brodick bay:
Eastward the light was dim and grey,—
On wood and slope, on land and sea,
Already partial twilight lay,
Though sails as white as white can be
Gleam'd on the horizon's verge, far off as eye could see.
Behind the mountains yesterday,
Whose towering ridge shuts out the west
With all its dyes from Brodick bay:
Eastward the light was dim and grey,—
On wood and slope, on land and sea,
Already partial twilight lay,
Though sails as white as white can be
Gleam'd on the horizon's verge, far off as eye could see.
But westward, o'er the mountain's height,
The sunset skies were all aglow
With one rich blaze of crimson light
Shot up from unseen depths below;
White clouds were floating to and fro
Around and over Goatfel's cone;
Ben-Noosh did o'er his shoulders throw
A misty mantle, which was blown
Aside from time to time, and all his outline shown.
The sunset skies were all aglow
With one rich blaze of crimson light
Shot up from unseen depths below;
White clouds were floating to and fro
Around and over Goatfel's cone;
Ben-Noosh did o'er his shoulders throw
A misty mantle, which was blown
Aside from time to time, and all his outline shown.
You might have deem'd that crimson blaze
Effulgence of volcanic flame,
Such as in old primeval days
From out those granite craters came,
And almost put the sun to shame:
Those mists into thin wreaths of smoke
Imagination well might frame,
From which sulphureous flashes broke,
While subterranean shocks redoubled stroke on stroke.
Effulgence of volcanic flame,
Such as in old primeval days
From out those granite craters came,
And almost put the sun to shame:
273
Imagination well might frame,
From which sulphureous flashes broke,
While subterranean shocks redoubled stroke on stroke.
But now 'twas silence all around,
Save for the torrent's distant roar,
And that continuous solemn sound
Of breakers on the shingled shore:
The ear no kindred witness bore
To those wild shapings of the eye,
No tokens of the pangs which tore
Earth's womb, when, with parturient cry,
She yean'd those giant rocks and cast them forth on high.
Save for the torrent's distant roar,
And that continuous solemn sound
Of breakers on the shingled shore:
The ear no kindred witness bore
To those wild shapings of the eye,
No tokens of the pangs which tore
Earth's womb, when, with parturient cry,
She yean'd those giant rocks and cast them forth on high.
That echoed long millennia past,—
Its like will once repeated be,
When that Arch-angel trumpet-blast
Shall peal through earth and air and sea,
And set the tomb-imprison'd free,
While flashes of electric fire
Fulfil their penal ministry,
And kindle earth's funereal pyre,
Foredoom'd to that dread day of Heaven's avenging ire.
Its like will once repeated be,
When that Arch-angel trumpet-blast
Shall peal through earth and air and sea,
And set the tomb-imprison'd free,
While flashes of electric fire
Fulfil their penal ministry,
And kindle earth's funereal pyre,
Foredoom'd to that dread day of Heaven's avenging ire.
High lesson, which the outward sense
Conveys to faith's awakened eye,
Through signs which God's omnipotence
Hath traced upon the earth and sky:
They must not pass unheeded by,—
Such lights as those of yester-eve,
And all at once dissolve and die,
And not a trace behind them leave
On human hearts which hope, on human hearts which grieve.
Conveys to faith's awakened eye,
Through signs which God's omnipotence
Hath traced upon the earth and sky:
They must not pass unheeded by,—
Such lights as those of yester-eve,
And all at once dissolve and die,
And not a trace behind them leave
On human hearts which hope, on human hearts which grieve.
274
Yet all too soon the glow was o'er,
The crimson light had died away,
And wood and mountain, sea and shore,
Were veil'd in one continuous grey;
Save that a streak of sunshine lay
On green Dun Fiume's north-western slope;
Bright promise of the coming day,
Type of the dying Christian's hope
Of resurrection, seen through faith's clear telescope.
The crimson light had died away,
And wood and mountain, sea and shore,
Were veil'd in one continuous grey;
Save that a streak of sunshine lay
On green Dun Fiume's north-western slope;
Bright promise of the coming day,
Type of the dying Christian's hope
Of resurrection, seen through faith's clear telescope.
| Poems | |