Classic and Contemporary Poetry
FANCIES IN THE FIRELIGHT, IN THE CONVENT OF SAINT BERNARD, by THOMAS BUCHANAN READ Poet's Biography First Line: O, it is a joy to gaze Last Line: Dona eis requiem! Subject(s): Alps; Mountains; Saint Bernard (mountain), Switzerland; Hills; Downs (great Britain) | ||||||||
O, IT is a joy to gaze Where the great logs lie ablaze; Thus to list the garrulous flame Muttering like some ancient dame; And to hear the sap recount Stories of its native mount, Telling of the summer weather, When the trees swayed all together, -- How the little birds would launch Arrowy songs from branch to branch, Till the leaves with pleasure glistened, And each great bough hung and listened To the song of thrush and linnet, When securely lodged within it, With all pleasant sounds that dally Round the hill and in the valley; Till each log and branch and splinter On the ancient hearth of Winter Can do naught but tell the story Of its transient summer glory. O, there's tranquil joy in gazing, Where these great logs lie ablazing, While the wizard flame is sparkling, The memorial shadows darkling Swim the wall in strange mutation, Till the marvelling contemplation Feeds its wonder to repletion With each firelight apparition. There the ashen Alp appears, And its glowing head uprears, Like a warrior grim and bold, With a helmet on of gold; And a music goes and comes Like the sound of distant drums. O'er a line of serried lances How the blazing banner dances, While red pennons rise and fall Over ancient Hannibal. Lo, beneath a moon of fire, Where the meteor sparks stream by her, There I see the brotherhood Which on sacred Grutli stood, Pledging with crossed hands to stand The defenders of the land. And in that red ember fell Gessler, with the dart of Tell! Still they fall away, and, lo! Other phantoms come and go, Other banners wing the air, And the countless bayonets glare, While around the steep way stir Armies of the conqueror; And the slow mule toiling on Bears the world's Napoleon. Now the transient flame that flashes 'Twixt the great logs and the ashes Sends a voice out from the middle That my soul cannot unriddle, -- Till the fire above and under Gnaws the stoutest wood asunder, And the brands, in ruin blended, Smoking, lie uncomprehended, -- While the dying embers blanch, And the muffled avalanche, Noiseless as the years descend, Sweeps them to an ashen end. Thus at last the great shall be, And the slave shall lie with them, -- Pie Jesu Domine Dona eis requiem! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CALIFORNIA SORROW: MOUNTAIN VIEW by MARY KINZIE CONTRA MORTEM: THE MOUNTAIN FASTNESS by HAYDEN CARRUTH GREEN MOUNTAIN IDYL by HAYDEN CARRUTH IF IT WERE NOT FOR YOU by HAYDEN CARRUTH DRIFTING by THOMAS BUCHANAN READ |
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