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Checked their light footsteps-statue-like they stood,
At length the spell dissolves! The warrior's lance
And see, the regal plumes, the couch of state!"
As man to man another self disclose,
That now with terror starts, with triumph glows!
Cora-Luxuriant Vegetation The Humming-bird - The Fountain of
THEN CORA came, the youngest of her race,
The more she searched, pleased and perplexed the more! And looked and laughed, and blushed with quick surprise; Her lips all mirth, all ecstasy her eyes!
But soon the telescope attracts her view;
Nor can thy flute, ALONSO, now excite
Hers through a convent-grate to send her last adieu.
Then stirs not, breathes not on enchanted ground?
There forests frown in midnight majesty;
Ceiba, and Indian fig, and plane sublime,
Nature's first-born, and reverenced by Time!
There sits the bird that speaks! there, quivering, rise
Half bird, half fly,* the fairy king of flowers 5
'T was 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! Murmuring delight, its living waters rolled 'Mid branching palms and amaranths of gold!
Evening A Banquet The Ghost of Cazziva.
THE tamarind closed her leaves; the marmoset
Who now danced forth to strew our path with flowers,
There odorous lamps adorned the festal rite, And guavas blushed as in the vales of light." There silent sate many an unbidden guest,3 Whose steadfast looks a secret dread impressed;
Not there forgot the sacred fruit that fed
Mingling in scenes that mirth to mortals give,
'T was from a heart that broke! As from the grave it spoke! And who, as unresolved the feast to share, Sits half-withdrawn in faded splendor there? "T is he of yore, the warrior and the sage, Whose lips have moved in prayer from age to age: Whose eyes, that wandered as in search before, Now on COLUMBUS fixed - to search no more! CAZZIVA, gifted in his day to know The gathering signs of a long night of woe; Gifted by those who give but to enslave; No rest in death! no refuge in the grave! - With sudden spring as at the shout of war, He flies! and, turning in his flight, from far Glares through the gloom like some portentous star! Unseen, unheard! Hence, minister of ill!" Hence, 't is not yet the hour! though come it will! They that foretold too soon shall they fulfil;' When forth they rush as with the torrent's sweep," And deeds are done that make the angels weep!
Hark, o'er the busy mead the shell proclaims Triumphs, and masques, and high heroic games. And now the old sit round; and now the young Climb the green boughs, the murmuring doves among.
Who claims the prize, when wingéd feet contend;
And hummed the air that pleased him, while she fanned)
That night, transported, with a sigh I said
"'T is all a dream!"- Now, like a dream, 't is fled;
Oft I awake and think on what I saw !
The groves, the birds, the youths, the nymphs recall,
STILL Would I speak of him, before I went,
Who among us a life of sorrow spent,1
And, dying, left a world his monument;