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MEMORY.
MEMORY.
Maiden of the lofty brow,
Mournful eye and cheek of snow;
Thou whose gaze is ever cast
On the pageant of the Past;
Tell me what thou seest there;
Tell me what its voices bear.
Mournful eye and cheek of snow;
Thou whose gaze is ever cast
On the pageant of the Past;
Tell me what thou seest there;
Tell me what its voices bear.
“Wheresoe’er I turn mine eyes,
Gorgeous visions on them rise.
In the distance, dim and far,
I see the glorious pomp of war:
Grecian phalanx, Persian host,
Darken now yon rocky coast;
Now the youth of Macedon,
Half the trembling earth hath won;
Now o’er barbaric hordes and kings,
The Roman eagle flaps his wings:
Where the Crusaders’ ranks advance,
I see their burnished armor glance;
And turban’d Turk, in eastern garb,
Spur to the charge his fiery barb.
Gorgeous visions on them rise.
In the distance, dim and far,
I see the glorious pomp of war:
Grecian phalanx, Persian host,
Darken now yon rocky coast;
Now the youth of Macedon,
Half the trembling earth hath won;
Now o’er barbaric hordes and kings,
The Roman eagle flaps his wings:
Where the Crusaders’ ranks advance,
I see their burnished armor glance;
And turban’d Turk, in eastern garb,
Spur to the charge his fiery barb.
