Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE DREAM IN THE TEMPLE OF SERAPIS, by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: The heavy night is falling Last Line: The temple of the god. Alternate Author Name(s): L. E. L.; Maclean, Letitia Subject(s): Alexander The Great (356-323 B.c.); Temples; Mosques | ||||||||
THE heavy night is falling, A dark and silent night, And aloud the storm is calling From the mountains' wooded height, There is weeping in the pines. But a voice of louder sorrow Arises from the plain, For the nations fear the morrow, And ask for aid in vain, From the old ancestral shrines In the still and stately temple -- The temple of the god. The kingly chiefs are seven Who seek that ancient shrine, To ask of night and heaven An answer and a sign; Pale as shadows pass they by. They are warriors, yet they falter, As with feet unshod They approach thy mighty altar, O Assyrian god! Will the secret of the sky Fill the stately temple -- The temple of the god? Conquerors they enter, In the conqueror's name; The altar in the centre, Burnt with undying flame -- Day and night that flame is fed. Lamps from many a marble column In the distance burn, And the light is sad and solemn As a funeral urn. For the presence of the dead Haunts the mystic temple -- The temple of the god. Seven warriors were their number, Seven future kings; Down they laid them to their slumber 'Mid the silvery rings Of the fragrant smoke that swept From the golden vases streaming, With their spice and oil, And the rich frankincense steaming, Half a summer's spoil. Lull'd by such perfume they slept In the silent temple -- The temple of the god. Lay they in that sleep enchanted, On the marble floor; Many things their slumber haunted, Things that were no more. 'Twas the phantasm of life: Fierce and rugged bands were crowding Round their youthful king; Shaggy hides their wild forms shrouding, While the echoes ring With the shouts that herald strife; Such now wake the quiet temple -- The temple of the god. Next, a southern noon is sleeping On embattled lines; There the purple robe is sweeping, There the red gold shines. That young chief his own has won -- He who, when his warriors tasked him, With his heart's free scope, What was left himself, they ask'd him, And he answer'd, "Hope." What he said, that hath he done; And his glory fills the temple -- The temple of the god. Victory is like sunshine o'er him, Wealth is at his side, Crowns are in the dust before him, Earth hath bow'd her pride At the whisper of his breath. But that laurell'd one is dying On a fever'd bed: "Leave him where he now is lying, There the king is best," it said; Such the oracle of death, In that fated temple -- The temple of the god. Such the moral of his story, Such was heaven's reply; Amid wealth, and power, and glory, It is best to die! Unto all that answer came. From the highest to the lowest Life draws deep a wasted breath: Fate! thy best boon thou bestowest When thou givest death. Each that oracle may claim, The words of that dark temple -- The temple of the god. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BAYADERE by FRANCIS SALTUS SALTUS AT DENDERA by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR RAMESES WORSHIPS RAMESES AT ABU SIMBEL by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR GLIMPSES OF ITALY: 5. LIKE PAESTUM'S TEMPLE by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON MAYAN TEMPLE by ADA CLARKE CARMICHIEL THE EARTHLY HOUSE by PHOEBE CARY THE DESERTED SHRINE by GLADYS CROMWELL THE ARK OF THE COVENANT by NINA DAVIS THE MENORAH by MIRIAM DEL BANCO CALYPSO WATCHING THE OCEAN by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON |
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