Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Rainbow

The Rainbow.

The skies, like a banner in sunset unrolled,O'er the west threw their splendour of azure and gold,But one cloud at a distance rose dense, and increased,Till its margin of black touched the zenith and east.

We gazed on the scenes, while around us they glowed,When a vision of beauty appeared on the cloud;'Twas not like the sun, as at mid-day we view,Nor the moon, that rolls nightly through starlight and blue.

Like a spirit, it came in the van of a storm!And the eye, and the heart, hailed its beautiful form,For it looked not severe, like an Angel of Wrath,But its garment of brightness illumed its dark path.

In the hues of its grandeur, sublimely it stood,O'er the river, the village, the field, and the wood,And river, field, village, and woodlands grew bright,As conscious they gave and afforded delight.

'Twas the bow of Omnipotence; bent in His hand,Whose grasp at Creation the universe spanned;'Twas the presence of God, in a symbol sublime;His Vow from the Flood to the exit of Time!

Not dreadful, as when in the whirlwind He pleads,When storms are His chariots, and lightnings His steeds;The black clouds His banner of vengeance unfurled,And thunder His voice to a guilt-stricken world;—

In the breath of His presence, when thousands expire,And seas boil with fury, and rocks burn with fire,And the sword, and the plague-spot with death strew the plain,And vultures, and wolves, are the graves of the slain.

Not such was that Rainbow, that beautiful one!Whose arch was refraction, its key-stone the sun;A pavilion it seemed which the Deity graced,And Justice and Mercy met there, and embraced.

Awhile, and it sweetly bent over the gloom,Like Love o'er a death-couch, or Hope o'er the tomb;That left the dark scene, whence it slowly retired,As Love had just vanished, or Hope had expired.