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Anonymous translation
THE WORLD in dreary darkness sleeps profound,— | |
| The storm-clouds hurry on, by hoarse winds driven, | |
| And night’s dull shades and spectral mists confound | |
| Earth, sea, and heaven! | |
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| King of surrounding chaos! thy dim form | 5 |
| Rises with fiery crown upon thy brow, | |
| To scatter light and peace amid the storm, | |
| And life bestow. | |
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| In vain the sea with thundering waves may peal | |
| And burst beneath thy feet in giant sport, | 10 |
| Till the white foam in snowy clouds conceal | |
| The sheltering port. | |
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| Thy flaming tongue proclaims—“Behold the shore!” | |
| And voiceless hails the weary pilot back, | |
| Whose watchful eyes, like worshippers, explore | 15 |
| Thy shining track. | |
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| Now silent night a gorgeous mantle wears, | |
| By sportive winds the clouds are scattered far, | |
| And lo! with starry train the moon appears | |
| In circling car. | 20 |
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| While the pale mist that thy tall brow enshrouds | |
| In vain would veil thy diadem from sight, | |
| Whose form colossal seems to touch the clouds | |
| With starlike light. | |
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| Ocean’s perfidious waves may calmly sleep, | 25 |
| Yet hide sharp rocks—the cliff false signs display: | |
| And luring lights, far flashing o’er the deep, | |
| The ship betray. | |
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| But thou, whose splendor dims each lesser beam, | |
| Whose firm, unmoved position might declare | 30 |
| Thy throne a monarch’s—like the north-star’s gleam, | |
| Reveals each snare. | |
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| So Reason’s steady torch, with light as pure, | |
| Dispels the gloom when stormy passions rise, | |
| Or Fortune’s cheating phantoms would obscure | 35 |
| The soul’s dim eyes! | |
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| Since I am cast by adverse fortunes here, | |
| Where thou presidest o’er this scanty soil, | |
| And bounteous heaven a shelter grants to cheer | |
| My spirit’s toil; | 40 |
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| Frequent I turn to thee, with homage mute, | |
| Ere yet each troubled thought is calmed in sleep, | |
| And still thy gem-like brow my eyes salute | |
| Above the deep. | |
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| How many now may gaze on this sea-shore, | 45 |
| Alas! like me, as exiles doomed to roam! | |
| Some who perchance would greet a wife once more, | |
| Or children’s home; | |
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| Wanderers, by poverty or despots driven | |
| To seek a refuge, as I do, afar, | 50 |
| Here find, at last, the sign of welcome given,— | |
| A hospitable star! | |
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| And still to guide the barque it calmly shines,— | |
| The barque that from my native land oft bears | |
| Tidings of bitter griefs, and mournful lines | 55 |
| Written with tears. | |
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| When first thy vision flashed upon my eyes, | |
| And all its dazzling glory I beheld, | |
| Oh, how my heart, long used to miseries, | |
| With rapture swelled! | 60 |
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| Inhospitable Latium’s shores were lost, | |
| And, as amid the threatening waves we steered, | |
| When near to dangerous shoals, by tempests tost, | |
| Thy light appeared. | |
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| No saints the fickle mariners then praised, | 65 |
| But vows and prayers forgot they with the night; | |
| While from the silent gloom the cry was raised,— | |
| “Malta in sight!” | |
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| And thou wert like a sainted image crowned, | |
| Whose forehead bears a shower of golden rays, | 70 |
| Which pilgrims, seeking health and peace, surround | |
| With holy praise. | |
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| Never may I forget thee! One alone | |
| Of cherished objects shall with thee aspire, | |
| King of the night! to match thy lofty throne | 75 |
| And friendly fire. | |
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| That vision still with sparkling light appears | |
| In the sun’s dazzling beams at matin hour, | |
| And is the golden angel memory rears | |
| On Cordova’s proud tower! | 80 |
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