A thousand servile years expire
And flashes of old nature rise,
As if a sudden spirit woke
That would not brook the chain and yoke,—
And then, the stormy pageant passed,
They bow their calloused necks at last,
And with a heavy stride and slow
The dream of liberty forego.
Alas! it is a land of shades
And mystic visions, swift alarms;
The fretted spirit flames and fades
With changing calls to prayers or arms.
And flashes of old nature rise,
As if a sudden spirit woke
That would not brook the chain and yoke,—
And then, the stormy pageant passed,
They bow their calloused necks at last,
And with a heavy stride and slow
The dream of liberty forego.
Alas! it is a land of shades
And mystic visions, swift alarms;
The fretted spirit flames and fades
With changing calls to prayers or arms.
***
The day is dying, and the sun
Hangs like a jewel rich with fire
In the deep West of your desire.
And o'er the wide plateau is rolled
A surge of crinkled sunset gold,
Bordered with shadows gray and dun,—
A horseman, with loose waving hair,
Black as the blackness of despair,
Wheels into sight and gives you heed,
And on his haunches reins his steed,
All quivering like a river reed,
And sits him like a statue there,
Transfigured in the sunset sea—
A bronze, bare sphinx of mystery!
A moment thus, in wonder lost,
His eagle plumes all backward tossed,
Then wheels again, as swift as wind,
Hangs like a jewel rich with fire
In the deep West of your desire.
And o'er the wide plateau is rolled
A surge of crinkled sunset gold,
Bordered with shadows gray and dun,—
A horseman, with loose waving hair,
Black as the blackness of despair,
Wheels into sight and gives you heed,
And on his haunches reins his steed,
All quivering like a river reed,
And sits him like a statue there,
Transfigured in the sunset sea—
A bronze, bare sphinx of mystery!
A moment thus, in wonder lost,
His eagle plumes all backward tossed,
Then wheels again, as swift as wind,
