| |
(From Ruins of Many Lands)
THE SEAS are passed Columbus ploughed of yore, | |
| A course he deemed no pilot traced before; | |
| And gales blow fragrance from those Indian Isles, | |
| Where luxury dwells, and soft allurement smiles; | |
| Yet, spite of fruits that bloom, and flowers that wave, | 5 |
| There fell Disease in mockery digs her grave. | |
| Across the gulf tall vessels steer their way, | |
| Or court the breezes down Honduras’ bay; | |
| Like clouds of snow, the restless feathered flocks | |
| Skim the blue surge, or settle on the rocks. | 10 |
| The white man’s axe in yon deep forest sounds, | |
| Up the green steep the buskined hunter bounds. | |
| Peace smiles on Yucatan, and Autumn throws | |
| O’er wood and waste her richness and repose; | |
| The trees’ deep brown, the lemon’s amber hue, | 15 |
| The bloomy grape that never culture knew, | |
| The golden gourd, the sugar-dropping cane, | |
| The watered valley, and the boundless plain,— | |
| Such are the sights this lonely tract displays, | |
| That soothe the spirit while they charm the gaze. | 20 |
| |
| World! wrongly called the New—this clime was old | |
| When first the Spaniard came, in search of gold. | |
| Age after age its shadowy wings had spread, | |
| And man was born, and gathered to the dead; | |
| Cities arose, ruled, dwindled to decay, | 25 |
| Empires were formed, then darkly swept away: | |
| Race followed race, like cloud-shades o’er the field, | |
| The stranger still to strangers doomed to yield. | |
| The last grand line that swayed these hills and waves, | |
| Like Israel, wandered long mid wilds and caves, | 30 |
| Then, settling in their Canaan, cities reared, | |
| Fair science wooed, a milder God revered, | |
| Till to invading Europe bowed their pride, | |
| And pomp, art, power, with Montezuma died. | |
| |
| The dense wild wood that hid the royal seat, | 35 |
| The lofty palms that choked the winding street, | |
| Man’s hand hath felled, and now, in day’s fair light, | |
| Uxmal’s broad ruins burst upon the sight. | |
| City! whose date, whose builders are unknown, | |
| Gracing the wild, mysterious and alone, | 40 |
| Unchronicled thy name on History’s page, | |
| No legend left our fancies to engage; | |
| Gazing around, we task the busy brain, | |
| And who thy dwellers were, demand in vain: | |
| The painted snakes that gleam on yonder wall, | 45 |
| The Hivites’ worship haply might recall, | |
| When, driven by Israel from their fatherland, | |
| They steered the seas, and sought some Western strand. | |
| That house, where burned the sacred fire, may tell | |
| Of Eastern climes, where Magi wove their spell; | 50 |
| While the tall pyramid, with temple crowned, | |
| And sculptured forms with flowing girdles bound, | |
| Speak of the Nile,—vain dreams! the mind is lost, | |
| And on a shoreless sea of fancies tost. | |
| |
| Yet Uxmal’s ruins no dark aspect wear, | 55 |
| Beauty and grace with Time are struggling there. | |
| The smooth stone palace rears its front of white, | |
| Its checkered floors, broad courts, are bathed in light; | |
| Flowers deck the pyramid’s high mouldering side,— | |
| On many a wall the aloe lifts its pride; | 60 |
| Fluttering in air, or glittering on some tomb, | |
| The bird of monarchs spreads its purple plume. | |
| So sweetly sad, so silently serene, | |
| The shades of ancients well might haunt the scene, | |
| Or elves by moonlight hold their revels here, | 65 |
| Play with the beams, and drink the violet’s tear; | |
| Dance round the rose, or climb the lily’s stem, | |
| Deeming that shadowy city built for them. | |
| |
