« ForrigeFortsett »
Or, by the body of Isis,
I'll snap his thin neck in twain !
Leave me to gaze at the landscape
Mistily stretching away, Where the afternoon's opaline tremors
O’er the mountains quivering play: Till the fiercer splendor of sunset
Pours from the west its fire, And melted, as in a crucible,
Their earthly forms expire; And the bald blear skull of the desert
With glowing mountains is crowned, That burning like molten jewels
Circle its temples round.
Æons of thought away,
Loosen my fancy to play ;
Ribbed with yellow and black,
I wandered, where never the track Of a human creature had rustled
The silence of mighty woods, And, fierce in a tyrannous freedom, I knew but the law of
my moods. The elephant, trumpeting, started,
When he heard my footstep near, And the spotted giraffes fled wildly
In a yellow cloud of fear.
I sucked in the noontide splendor,
Quivering along the glade,
Basked in the tamarisk shade,
As the shadows of night came on, To brood in the trees' thick branches
And the shadow of sleep was gone;
Then I roused, and roared in answer,
And unsheathed from my cushioned feet My curving claws, and stretched me,
And wandered my mate to greet. We toyed in the amber moonlight,
Upon the warm flat sand, And struck at each other our massive arms
How powerful he was and grand ! His yellow eyes flashed fiercely
As he crouched and gazed at me,
And his quivering tail, like a serpent,
Twitched curving nervously.
With a wild triumphant cry,
When the thunders before them fly.
For his love, like his rage, was rude; And his teeth in the swelling folds of my neck
At times, in our play, drew blood.
Often another suitor
For I was flexile and fair-
While I lay crouching there,
And ruffled with triumph and power,
To breathe him a vast half-hour, Then down to the fountain we loitered,
Where the antelopes came to drink;
Ere they had time to shrink,
And tore them limb from limb,
Ere he disputed with him.
Not this weak human life,
poor and petty strife!
Come to my arms, my hero,
The shadows of twilight grow,
In my veins begins to flow.
Take me with triumph and power,
I will not shrink or cower.
Ere we were women and men,
And love as you loved me then !
W. W. STORY.
THE BURIAL OF MOSES.
“And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor ; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day."
By Nebo's lonely mountain,
On this side Jordan's wave,
There lies a lonely grave.
And no man saw it e'er,
And laid the dead man there.
That was the grandest funeral
That ever pass'd on earth ;
Or saw the train go forth
Noiselessly as the daylight
Comes back when night is done,
Grows into the great sun.
Noiselessly as the spring-time
Her crown of verdure weaves, And all the trees on all the hills
Open their thousand leaves ;
Or voice of them that wept,
The great procession swept.