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Show 74 TnE moon was up. One general smile Was rcstinrr on the Indian isle. Mild-pur:-ethereal i rock and wood, In searchinrr sunshine, wild and rmlc, Rose, mello~ved through the silver gleam, Soft as the landscape of a dream : All motionless and dewy wet, Tree, vine, and flower in shadow met: The myrtle with its snon·y bloom, Crossinrr the nicrhtshade's solemn gloomThe wl~te crec~pia's silver rhind Relieved by deeper green behind- The orange with its fruit of gold,- The lithe paullinia's verdant fold,- The passion-nowor, with symbol holy, '1.\vinin..., its tendrils long and lowly,Tite rh;xias dark, and cassia tall, And, proudly rising over all, The kingly palm's imperial stem, Crowned with its leafy diadem,Star- like, beneath whose sombre shade, The fiery-winged cucullo played! Yes-lovely was thine aspect, then, Fair island of the Western Sea!Lavish of beauty, even when Thy brutes were happier than thy men, For they, at least, were free! Regardle>s of thy glorious clime, Unmindful of thy soil of flowers, The toiling ncgru sighed, that Time 75 No faster sped his hours. For, by the dewy moonlight still, He fed the weary-turning mill, Or bent him in the chill morass, To pluck the long and tangled grass, And hear above his srar·\l'Orn back The heavy slave-whip's frequent crack;' While in his heart one evil thought In solitary madness wrought,- One baleful fire surviving still, The quenching ofth' immortal mindOne sterner passion of his kind, Which even fetters could not kill,- The savage hope, to deal, ere long, A vengeance bitterer than his wrong! Hark to that cry !-long, loud and shrill, From field and forest, rock and hill, Thrilling and horrible it rung, Around, beneath, above;- The wild beast from hia cavern sprung- The wild bird from her grove! Nor fear, nor joy, nor a~o'ny 'Vere mingled in that rnillnight cry; llut, like the lion's growl of wrath, When falls that hunter in his path, Whose barbed arrow, deeply set, Is rankling in his bosom yet, It told of hate, full, deep and strong,Of vengeance kindling out of wrong; It was as if the crimes of years- The agony-the toil-the tears- |
