Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TROPICA; A FRAGMENT, by RICHARD SOLOMON GEDNEY Poet's Biography First Line: Tis night in a far-off clime Last Line: Rouse her from her dreamy rest! Subject(s): Animals; Hunger; Hunting; Jungles; Native Americans; Hunters; Indians Of America; American Indians; Indians Of South America | ||||||||
I. 'Tis night in a far-off clime, Where the ever-present summer time Clothes the giant forest In a grand array of gold and green; Where the palm, the tropic - queen, Slender, graceful, crowned is seen In her majesty between Indian cane and corozo; Where the fan-leaved abanico, And gold-fruited pirrijao, And the waxen-leaved banana, And the serpent-like lliana, Creeping on from tree to tree Making denser density, Intertangled with the vine, Whose outstretching tendrils twine, In a network wild and free, Round the dark mahogany; Where the plaintain and magnolia, And the trumpet-flowered bignonia, And the tree-fern's feathery frondage, And the moriché's rotoundage, Flourish in the constant Spring Soft tropic breezes bring. II. It is night, The stars are bright, Glimmering in diamond-light, But to Earth as well as Heaven, In this clime bright stars are given, 'Neath the vast immensity Of tangled vine and giant tree, Myriads of fire-flies gleaming, Ape the lamps in Heaven beaming; There the gusitano courting, Brightly round his loved one sporting, Merrily and happily prefers his claim, Wooing and winning her With love's own flame; And the cocuyos dancing And glowing and glancing, Fill the deep aisles of the forest with fire That proves but too often the light of their prey, For the night-hawk and owl, And the vampyre foul, On swift wings are hunting their prey. The cougar and ounce, And the panther and lynx, That were hid in the jungle all day, Are abroad in the night, In their hunger and might, And they, too, are seeking for prey; Their roaring and growling Are blent with the howling Of voices half human, far up in the trees; And the croak of the tree-toads, And tinkling of bell-frogs, And bark of the dog-wolf, Are mingled with these. III. 'Tis night, And the forest is filled with harsh cries, Since gloaming the breath of the riot Has dimmed the bright eyes Of the stars in the skies, And troubled them into disquiet; And they come and they go, And they flit in and out, And wonder whatever the forest's about; But the trees like the noise, For they laugh and they nod And they toss up their arms to the stars, While beneath, on the sod, Steals the lynx velvet-shod, And bound the lithe spotted jaguars. IV. But hist! There's a silence; The stars in the skies Bend down from their thrones with inquisitive eyes, And they twinkle and glimmer, They gleam and they glow, While watching the change in the forest below. They see that the fire-flies go out one by one, They hear that the howling and growling are gone, And the groan of the lechuza dying away, And they gleam with a brighter and happier ray; While beneath them the forest is buried in shade, And it silently wonders, And vainly it ponders, On the change in its life that a moment has made. V. But list to that murmur The west wind is coming; And now through the forest It quietly steals. Hark!'tis a welcome the tree tops are humming; Each drooping leaf Its soft influence feels. From the flower-laden wings Of this soft western breeze, The waving boughs scatter the scent that it brings; And the sweet cdour lingers Behind in the trees, And over the forest A lullaby flings, And soothes it with dreams of such beautiful things, That the trees nod their heads And go softly to sleep: And the sweet still perfume, And the watchful stars, Unbroken vigil keep. VI. The musical tinkling Of bright stars twinkling, Like sea-foam sprinkling The shores of Night; Through the interstices Of the thick-spreading trees, Glimmers and gleams with gentle delight; While, the fringed boughs below, Winged Eden-odours go Silently to and fro, Like bright angels keeping watch o'er the wood sleeping In perfume besteeping Each leaf and each twig, That they may not awake The enchantment to break, That reigns over everything little and big. VII. Hush!like the murmur of a mother breathing Soft prayers when bending o'er her infant's sleep, A band of roses round the child's head wreathing Immortal flowers, that in a trancing deep, Wrap the young angel to its native Heaven Comes a sweet whisper through the drooping boughs, Low as the murmur by his mistress given In answer to a lover's raptured vows! Gently it comes, among the still leaves gliding, And, blending with the forest's dreams, it tells The slumbering giants of a being biding Far down within its bosom, in the dells Where the perfume harbours and the starlight dwells, Who, 'mid the wilderness of tangle straying In the soft evening, had foregone return Till Night, in diamond robe the skies arraying, Gleamed on her through the frondage of the fern, And then in vain had turned upon her steps And striven to retrace her random strolling, Till to her side, with long and bounding leaps, Came the jaguar, his red tongue far out-lolling, As panting for her life all thirstily, And how, when she knelt on the dewy sod, Her sweet, large, earnest eyes uplift to God, Soft angel-voices chorussed in her ear, "Arise! thy King is with theehave no fear!" VIII. And here the trees bent lower in their dream, And the soft stars gave out a brighter gleam, And the sweet odour stole in fuller stream 'Mid the long frondage, while the silent Voice Went on to tell the trees how then the noise Was hushed into itself, and nothing stirred Save now and then the chirrup of a bird Or cricking of an insect in the grass; How the jaguar slunk back to let her pass As she uprose, and in the majesty Of all-relying faith and angel chastity On through the darkened forest took her way: And how soft-gleaming splendours round her, o'er her, Shone, lighting up the mighty pillared aisle Through which she trod,until, outstretched before her, A lake, star-lighted, radiant with a smile Of joyful welcome, greeted her glad eyes; While by her side a grot, curtained with vine and brier, And carpeted with mosses of such dyes As tint with loveliness autumnal skies When sunset robes the west in gold and fire, And lined with nature's choicest tapestries, Bright, bell-like, climbing flowers, blue, purple, white, And orange, which have crept along the sides And o'er the roof, and intertwined their slight And flexile tendrils till the network hides The frame it clings to, and the little grot Seems hung with satin leaves and velvet flowers; And how she turned her snowy brow aloft, And, thanking God in tones low, sweet, and soft, Yet clear as rippling waters, entered in, And laid her down and slept. And so the hours, With footfalls slow and noiseless, onward crept Unweeting to the forest; fern and palm Still slumbered on in silence deep and calm, Ruled by the Voice's sweet narcotic balm. IX. Would you gaze upon the maiden? See her there! Sure your eyes were never laid on Aught so fair. Form of sylphide; eyes of fawn, In whose dark depths far withdrawn Softest, kindest feelings, to and fro Like fairies flit, Ever and ever, Sometimes, too, Those bright eyes will seem alit With a grand and radiant glow, Seeming as you gaze to grow Like a stilly summer dawn, Greatly, silently, and slow; Silken lashes, long and drooping, Hiding those bright orbs from view, Gently fall upon a cheek Whose surpassing lovely hue, Fain I would, but cannot speak, Mortal tongue is all too weak; Can you fancy lilies blushing? Can you picture sunset stooping In its beauty o'er the snow, Like a dream of roses flushing, O'er the pure, new-fallen snow? Or the glorious sunlight gushing Through a rich-stained ruby-window, Full upon a marble statue, In some old cathedral chancel? If, indeed, you can do that, you May, perhaps, form some conception Of a tint that bars description; Round these lovely cheeks her tresses, Glossy, flowing, auburn tresses, Loosely stray and unconfined, Curl with curl in kiss-caresses Close embracing, intertwined. Let us do our homage duly, Kneeling down to kiss her feet, Bright in beauteousness truly, Snowy, blue-veined, soft, petite. X. The night has passed away, the stars are gone, The bright-plumed birds have wakened one by one, The western breeze comes freshened from the sea. Imparting life to every sleepy tree, The Sun has risen ten degrees at least, And left the rosy blushes of the East Which heralded his coming, far behind, And yet young Myrrha wakes not. Never mind! We need not be impatient; we can wait; We'll wake the lady if she sleeps too late, But now she's tired and so let her rest. And turn your eyes Where the sunbeam lies Lazy upon the gleaming lakelet's breast. Let us steep our souls In the tide that rolls, Invisible, intangible, But not the less all-powerful, Ever upon God's favoured few, From the least of Nature's beauties; Let us humbly pay our duties To the loveliness we view, Bending down, adoring, praising, Fill our thirsty hearts with gazing On the glories to us given, Reflex of the plains of Heaven! XI. Kissing our feet the lake lies; All around tall palms rise; O'erhead the Bird of Paradise Like a winged jewel flies; Here and there, Through the amber air, The Humming-bird his lightning pinion plies; The sunbeam illumes His prismal plumes, Till he flashes and flames like a gem of price; And paroquets clothed in a thousand dyes, And crested like Romans of old, Flit in and out With haughty flout, Silent, and fierce, and bold; And parrots blazing in purple and gold, Bright-eyed and loud of tongue, Are laughing and racing, And calling and chasing, The fringed fern boughs among; Round our feet bright flowers twine, Crimson and blue; From tree to tree the netting vine Climbing in a flowing line, Beautifully serpentine, Closes the view; Beauty gleams around us; o'er us Bends the sky surpassing fair, Heaven and Earth repeat in chorus "God is LoveGod everywhere!" XII. But, lo ye, where the wakened Myrrha cometh; Forth from her mossy couch she gaily trips, The wild-bee circling round her, softly hummeth, Scenting the honey of her dewy lips. An incarnation of etherial lightness, She issues radiant from her mossy bed, She trips along a fairy-thing of brightness, And scarcely prints the grasses with her tread. With lips half parted, eager-eyed, She gazes on the glowing scene, The bright birds circling round her glide, The tall trees bow their lofty pride, The Zephyr nestles to her side, And beauty owneth beauty's Queen. Tears having birth of deep, divine delight, Unspeakable, unspoken, dim her eyes, She kneels, and angels in their heavenward flight See white-winged prayers gleam past them up the skies. XIII. With fluttering heart and blushing cheek, awhile She peereth round, and then a merry smile At her own timorousness doth part her lips, Quick as the thought the deed,her robe she slips, And all undight, a form of perfect grace, She seeks the gleaming lakelet's pure embrace. There, gladly joyous as a thoughtless child, She carols like a lark upon the wing, While all around are hushed to hear her sing; A melody so thrilling, soft and wild, That even Zephyr holds his breath to hear The bell-like voice, so sweetly, gladly clear, Which swells her little throat of ivory, As in the perfumed waters she holds revelry; In every movement so securely free, So carelessly confiding in the waves In which her limbs of lily-leaf she laves, She seems the Goddess of the place to be! XIV. And so, while slowly Sol upclomb the skies She lingered in the waters, till assate Of their cool freshness;then, in such a state As water-nymph might wear of glittering guise, When tripping o'er the long-lashed lids of dreaming poet's eyes, She stood again upon the satin sod, As fragrant as the blooms on which she trod. Bright diamonds gleamed on every lily limb, And where she stepped they fell in sparkling showers Into the chalices of odorous flowers, Making a music misty sweet and dim. And then blind Zephyr hastened from the wood To fan her with his wings, whose every waft Cast waves of richest perfume where she stood. And then there came a sound like golden bells, Whose mocking notes came down in trills and swells And ripplings of music like her own, And then the spell was broken, and she laughed; And, turning where her snowy garb was thrown, She donned the flowing robe and clasped the zone; Then on the breathing ground herself did seat, To gird the sandals to her little feet. But, even while she interlaced the thongs Across that satin skin, so white and soft, There came upon her ear an ominous sound, Such as of right and precedence belongs But to the dreaded Earthquake,known full oft By habitants of that delicious clime; An ominous and fear-forboding sound, Seeming to rise up from the underground, And prophecy of woe while joy was in its prime! XV. Like a Titan struggling to be free, The earth heaves to and fro; The lakelet boils like a vexed sea, Lashing itself so angrily That its face is white as snow. The maiden sits like one in a trance, She dare not rise, she dare not glance, She sits with her face bowed down to her knee, And takes God for her surety. The earth reels up like a drunken man And casteth the maiden down; While a sound like the shout of a thousand streams Rings loudly through her ears, And a figure that weareth a regal crown, Appears and disappears. And she knows not if these be truths or dreams, For she sinks beneath her fears. XVI. Lo! it is a lady's chamber, Beautiful exceedingly; Through the gauze-like drapery peeping, Golden beams fall lingeringly On the face of one there sleeping, Kisses from her sweet lips reaping Kisses without end or number, In a sea of beauty steeping All the visions of her slumber, Till her lips in smiles are wreathing, And her eyelids gently quiver, And a pulse is in her breathing, Bathing in the golden river, Till the sunbeams, growing bolder, Seek her lips with warmer zest, Break the bonds of sleep that hold her, Rouse her from her dreamy rest! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD INDIAN by ARTHUR STANLEY BOURINOT SCHOLARLY PROCEDURE by JOSEPHINE MILES ONE LAST DRAW OF THE PIPE by PAUL MULDOON THE INDIANS ON ALCATRAZ by PAUL MULDOON PARAGRAPHS: 9 by HAYDEN CARRUTH THEY ACCUSE ME OF NOT TALKING by HAYDEN CARRUTH AMERICAN INDIAN ART: FORM AND TRADITION by DIANE DI PRIMA ABSENCE by RICHARD SOLOMON GEDNEY AN HOUR WITH FANCY by RICHARD SOLOMON GEDNEY ASPIRATIONS TO THE INFINITE; ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND by RICHARD SOLOMON GEDNEY |
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