Читать книгу Ismael; an oriental tale. With other poems - Edward Bulwer Lytton Baron Lytton - Страница 10

’Tis eve, and bright through Caymyr’s fragrant trees

Spread Ismael’s banners to the wanton breeze;

O’er martial camps, and trophied armour blue,

The rising moon-beams cast a silvery hue;

Lull’d is each ruder wind, so hush’d, and calm,

That not a leaf is mov’d on yonder palm,

Save by the soft, sweet breeze that now floats by,

Like the faint meltings of a lover’s sigh;

And the lone bulbul[4], on that beauteous tree, Pours out her strains of purest melody;10 And many a flow’r, that shuns day’s fervid glow, Puts forth its modest, fragrant beauties now; And the high heav’ns smile so sublimely fair, The eye might think to waft the spirit there; While yonder clouds, that o’er the mountain roll’d, Have caught the sun’s last parting glance of gold, And seem to glory in their splendid hue, Give to the heav’ns around a brighter blue. But the rich beauties of that sacred still, With war’s rude mingled sounds are suited ill20 With clang of arms, loud shouting, and rough swell Of rousing trumpet, and of clashing zel[5]; It breaks the balm divine, that breathes around, That else might pour its healing in the wound Of rack’d Despair, and Murder’s self awhile, Of its soul-withering agony beguile.

Yes! ’tis an eve, whose pensive, sweet control,

Thrills in soft transport through the care-worn soul,

And man would cry, “Is this a place, an hour

“For war’s dread tyrant to exert his power?30

“Perchance this scene, that now, so softly mild,

“Of love and sweetness seems the heav’nly child,

“May soon, alas! where now these flowrets glow,

“Red carnage pour, and echo sounds of wo!

“This far-extended camp, this glorious train

“That spread their numbers o’er green Caymyr’s plain,

“Vast as the sand, that loads the Persian shore,

“A day shall come,—and they shall be no more.”