From “The Bride of Abydos” KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime; Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime? Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, Where the flowers ever blossom, and beams ever shine; Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed with perfume, Wax faint o’er the gardens of Gúl in her bloom? Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute; Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, In color though varied, in beauty may vie, And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine? ’T is the clime of the East; ’t is the land of the Sun,— Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done? O, wild as the accents of lover’s farewell Are the hearts which they bear and the tales which they tell!
The Orient
More from Poet
-
From “Childe Harold,” Canto III. THERE sunk the greatest, nor the worst of men, Whose spirit antithetically mixed One moment of the mightiest, and again On little objects with like firmness fixed, Extreme in all things! hadst thou been betwixt, Thy throne had still been thine, or...
-
Eternal spirit of the chainless mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art, For there thy habitation is the heart,— The heart which love of thee alone can bind; And when thy sons to fetters are consigned,— To fetters, and the damp vault’s dayless gloom,— Their country conquers with their...
-
[June 15, 1815] From “Childe Harold,” Canto III. THERE was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium’s capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its...
-
From “Hebrew Melodies” THE ASSYRIAN came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with...
-
From “Don Juan,” Canto III. THE ISLES of Greece, the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phœbus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet; But all, except their sun, is set. The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero’s...