Poems (Eckley)/The Arab's Grave
LOW mournfully, ye breezes, blow! Bear pity on your breath,As through the palms ye linger, ere Ye touch these mounds of death.Nor rudely fling the sand-drifts where Sweet flowers ought to be,But find some octave here to chant A solemn symphony. Blow mournful, mournfully.
THE ARAB'S GRAVE.(THEBES.)
LOW mournfully, ye breezes, blow! Bear pity on your breath,As through the palms ye linger, ere Ye touch these mounds of death.Nor rudely fling the sand-drifts where Sweet flowers ought to be,But find some octave here to chant A solemn symphony. Blow mournful, mournfully.Sing mournfully, ye desert winds, And kiss with dewy breath,The lowliest of these little mounds, So rudely heaped for death.Displace no chip of earth or stone,[1] Laid here by mourner's hand, But gently bear upon your wings, Songs from the Spirit-land. Sing mournful, mournfully.
Sigh mournfully, ye south-winds, sigh— From unknown islands bearStrange perfumes, and the roses' breath, From Persia's gardens fair;In cloud-wreaths may the incense float In fitful gale and gust,To consecrate the Arab's grave,— And o'er the Arab's dust, Sigh mournful, mournfully.
Guard steadfastly, guard jealously, Ye granite rocks that standLike sentries on this desert waste, An ancient giant band;Keep off the rude invader, give Protection to each grave,Where sleep beneath the glitt'ring sands, The Mussulman and slave. Guard steadfast, steadfastly.
Shine gorgeously, shine gloriously, Ye sunset clouds of even,And fling your golden seas of light, Far-rippling from God's heaven;Let waves of colour dash each grave, And lift it from its gloom;If only transient be the spell That lights an Arab's tomb; Shine gorgeous, gloriously.
Look peacefully, ye stars above, Drop pity from your rays,And keep bright watch from yon blue heights, As on these mounds ye gaze.And thou, clear moon, thy crescent wear Above this darkling gloom;Bright ensign of unclouded faith, To gild the meanest tomb. Watch peaceful, peacefully.
Look tenderly, look pitiful, Ye strangers when ye come,Nor gentle sympathy withhold From this an Arab's tomb; Nor scorn one suppliant prayer to raise, That Life and Light be given,To lead the Arab up to God,— To Life and Light in heaven; Pray trustful, tearfully.
Thebes, Feb., 1857.
- ↑ The Arabs cover their graves with broken pottery, as no grass grows on the arid soil.