It moves!-what form unseen, what being there LONG on the deep the mists of morning lay, And, on our faces, blessed the wondrous Man; "Glory to God!" unnumbered voices sung, 66 Glory to God!" the vales and mountains rung, Voices that hailed Creation's primal morn, Slowly, bare-headed, thro' the surf we bore The sacred cross, and, kneeling, kissed the shore. But what a scene was there! Nymphs of romance, Youths graceful as the Faun, with eager glance, Spring from the glades, and down the alleys peep, Then headlong rush, bounding from steep to steep, And clap their hands, exclaiming as they run, "Come and behold the Children of the Sun!" When hark, a signal-shot! The voice, it came Over the sea in darkness and in flame! They saw, they heard; and up the highest hill, As in a picture, all at once were still! Creatures so fair, in garments strangely wrought, From citadels, with Heaven's own thunder fraught, Checked their light footsteps-statue-like they stood As worshipped forms, the Genii of the Wood! At length the spell dissolves! The warrior's lance Rings on the tortoise with wild dissonance! And see, the regal plumes, the couch of state! Still where it moves the wise in council wait! See now borne forth the monstrous mask of gold, These now exchanged for gifts that thrice surpass As man to man another self disclose, That now with terror starts, with triumph glows! CANTO X. Cora-Luxuriant Vegetation-the Humming-bird-the Fountain of Youth. THEN CORA came, the youngest of her race, And oft behind it flew, and oft before; The more she searched, pleased and perplexed the more ! And look'd and laugh'd, and blush'd with quick sur prise! Her lips all mirth, all ecstasy her eyes! But soon the telescope attracts her view; Rocking, at noon-tide, on the silent sea, Nor can thy flute, ALONSO, now excite As in VALENCIA, when, with fond delight, FRANCISCA, waking, to the lattice flew, So soon to love and to be wretched too! Hers thro' a convent-grate to send her last adieu. -Yet who now comes uncalled; and round and round, And near and nearer flutters to the sound Then stirs not, breathes not-on enchanted ground? Who now lets fall the flowers she culled to wear When he, who promised, should at eve be there; And faintly smiles, and hangs her head aside Soon from the bay the mingling crowd ascends, Ceiba, and Indian fig, and plane sublime, There sits the bird that speaks! there, quivering, rise Soon in the virgin's graceful ear to shine. 'Twas he that sung, if ancient Fame speaks truth, "Come! follow, follow to the Fount of Youth! I quaff the ambrosial mists that round it rise, Dissolved and lost in dreams of Paradise!" For there called forth, to bless a happier hour, It met the sun in many a rainbow-shower! |